









































- 

















PIRATE PRINCES 

AND 

YANKEE JACKS 


BY THE SAME AUTHOR 


JUNGLE ROADS 
And Other Trails of Roosevelt 

BOONE OF THE WILDERNESS 

A Tale of Pioneer Adventure and Achieve¬ 
ment in the “Dark and Bloody Ground” 

LIFE’S MINSTREL 
A Book of Verse 


E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 








STEPHEN DECATUR. 

From a painting by Rembrandt Peale. 




I 

PIRATE PRINCES 

AND 

YANKEE JACKS 

Setting forth David Forsyth’s Adventures in America’s Battles 
on Sea and Desert with the Buccaneer Princes of Bar¬ 
bary, with an Account of a Search under the Sands 
of the Sahara Desert for the Treasure- 
filled Tomb of Ancient Kings 

l 

BY 

DANIEL fiENDERSON 

Author of “Boone of the Wilderness/’ “Jungle Roads 
and Other Trails of Roosevelt” 



NEW YORK 

E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 

681 Fifth Avenue 




• 7 * 





Copyright, 1923, 

By E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 


All Rightt Reterved 




Printed in the United States of America 


MAY -3 1323 'J 

© Cl A 7 0 5 2 7 0 C_ 



sT-i fi 'V'" 



THIS BOOK IS A TRIBUTE 
TO THE MEN AND BOYS 
WHO CREATED AND SERVED IN 
AMERICA’S FIRST NAVY 


“The ship of war, with its acres of canvas, white in the morn¬ 
ing sun, has sunk forever below the horizon. . . . No longer is 
the hoarse voice of the captain heard shouting to the tops or 
to the gun-deck in stentorian tones. ... All have gone from 
the deck of the galley, the frigate, the line-of-battle ship, from 
the decks where, in the teeth of gales, they clawed off lee shores, 
when the mouths of their guns drank in the seas, or fought the 
fogs or Arctic cold; from the decks where they led the changing 
fortunes of the fight in the din of desperate battle; where men 
take life at the uttermost hazard and clasp hands with fate/* 


—Edward Kirk Rawson. 













FOREWORD 


T HE road deft by early American ships into the 
Mediterranean Sea has become a well-traveled one. 
On errands of commerce, punishment or relief, our skip¬ 
pers have laid an ever-broadening way into the Orient. 

Yet who, in the bustle of the present, recalls the 
pioneer American captains and sailors who once suffered 
slavery and torture to make the Mediterranean a safe 
sea for Yankee vessels? Who remembers the Americans 
who lay for nine years in Turkish prisons? Who recalls 
General William Eaton, who led a little band of Ameri- 
cans and Greeks on a desperate venture across the North 
African desert to release the imprisoned crew of the 
Philadelphia from Turkish bondage, and who, for the 
first time, raised the United States flag over a fort of 
the old world? 

It is to make this period and its heroic characters live 
again in the mind of America that this volume has been 
written. To link the several campaigns against the Turks 
of Barbary, extending over a period of fifteen years, the 
author has adopted the method he followed in his book 
“Boone of the Wilderness/’ and introduced characters 
and episodes of fiction. The material is largely derived 
from original sources. 

Permit us, then, without further ado, to present and 
commend to your interest the young sailor David Forsyth, 

vii 



Foreword 


$** • 

vin 

who is at times the hero of the yarn, but quite as often 
a spectator and historian of the deeds of the brave men 
under whom he was privileged to serve. Do not hold his 
youth against him. Nelson went to sea at twelve; Drake 
was scarcely more than a boy when he fought on the 
Spanish Main; and Decatur and many other gallant 
American officers under whom David served were mere 
striplings. Youth was foremost on the sea in those days, 
and it is hoped that its ardent spirit flames in this volume, 
though a century’s dust covers our heroes. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Man from the East. I 

II. Captured by Corsairs. 16 

III. Barbary and the Buccaneers. 25 

IV. The Rose of Egypt . 40 

V. My First Voyage. 46 

VI. Mutiny .. 56 

VII. Betrayed . 64 

VIII. An American Frigate Becomes a Corsair’s 

Cattleship . 74 

IX. Life Aboard Old Ironsides .... 82 

X. A Connecticut Yankee in the Court of 

Tunis. 95 

XI. The Loss of The Philadelphia . 109 

XII. We Blow Up The Philadelphia . 116 

XIII. The American Eagle Enters the African 

Desert . 126 

XIV. The Desert Girl. 140 

XV. Reuben James Saves Decatur’s Life. 154 

XVI. We Capture the Desert City of Derne. 162 

XVII. The Treasure Tomb. 177 

XVIII. Sold Into Slavery . 187 

XIX. The Escape. 198 

XX. Home Surprises. 220 

Postscript. The End of the Pirates. 228 

Bibliography . 234 


IX 










































ILLUSTRATIONS 

Stephen Decatur, from a painting by Rembrandt 
Peale . Frontispiece 

PAGE 

“I’d Blow Every One of Those Pirate Nests Out of 
the Water Before Ed Pay One of Those Bloody 
Bashaws a Sixpence!” Said the Commodore.... 13 

Wrecking and Piracy Had Been Followed by the 
Communities Bordering on the Mediterranean 
Since the Earliest Days. 35 

In Look and in Deed, William Eaton was a Fighter 94 

“How Dare You Lift Your Hand Against a Subject 
of Mine,” the Bey of Tunis Demanded of Eaton ioi 

I Hoped that I Might Join a Caravan that Would 
Pass by Tokra—the Treasure City of My Dreams 105 

“We Are Bound Across This Gloomy Desert to 


Liberate Three Hundred Americans from the 
Chains of Barbarism.”— General Eaton. 135 

This Was the First Time an American Flag Had 
Been Raised on a Fort of the Old World. 165 


xi 






/ 




PIRATE PRINCES 

AND 

YANKEE JACKS 


CHARACTERS OF THE STORY 


David Forsyth, an orphan. 

Alexander, his brother. 

Rev. Ezekiel Eccleston, D.D., Rector of Marley Chapel, Balti¬ 
more—David’s guardian. 

Commodore Joshua Barney, of the United States Navy. 

General William Eaton, in command of the American expedi¬ 
tion by land against Tripoli. 

Murad, an Egyptian. 

Bludsoe, mate of The Rose of Egypt. 

Anne, “The Desert Girl.” 

Mustapha, An Arab boy. 

Stephen Decatur, William Bainbridge, Edward Preble, 
Richard Somers, Reuben James, Samuel Childs, and other 
officers and men of the United States Navy. 




PIRATE PRINCES AND YANKEE 

JACKS 


CHAPTER I 

THE MAN FROM THE EAST 

“T)UT, my dear Doctor,” said the swarthy Egyptian, 
bowing with upturned palms, “you surely do not 
mean to keep the location of this treasure tomb hidden 
forever from science. I know that a man of your nature 
would not care for the money the jewels and trinkets 
would bring if sold, but I can not see how you can refuse 
to let scholars view these rare specimens of ancient art. 
Will you not-” 

“I beg you,” said the rector in distressed tones, “to 
speak no more about it. The subject awakens unpleasant 
memories. I have never before mentioned having seen 
this treasure tomb. So far as I am concerned the desert 
sands shall not be moved from over its door. Please, 
my good friend, do not refer to it again!” 

“But,” began the Egyptian. 

Commodore Barney jerked him to one side. “Look 
here, Mr. Murad,” he said in gruff tones, “Dr. Eccleston 
lost a wife and child in that exploration. He came to 
this country to forget his loss. Keep off the subject of 
those antiques—the chances are that they’re not worth 
the trouble it would take to dig them up!” 




2 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

“He has a secret that he owes to science,” said the 
Oriental stubbornly. He was a proud, determined man. 
The black moustache that flowed across his tawny face 
and the black hair that showed in strings beneath his fez 
gave an added fierceness to his look. His brilliantly 
embroidered cloak made him still more commanding in 
appearance. Commodore Barney, with his stout body 
and sea legs, cut a poor figure beside him. 

“Harken, my friend,” the commodore said sharply, “I 
mean what I say. We’re not going to have the rector 
bothered. We don’t know your business in America, and 
we’re not inquiring into it. In return, we ask you to let 
us mind our own affairs. If you know what’s good for 
you, you’ll stop hounding the minister for his secret. 
Science be blowed! Art be hanged!” 

Alexander and I, David Forsyth, listened with eyes 
popping. Orphans we were, adopted by Dr. Eccleston, 
our mother’s rector. My father—as brave a sailor as 
ever drew breath, Commodore Barney often assured us— 
had been killed on board the commodore’s schooner Hyder 
Ally , while protecting the shipping in the Delaware River 
from British frigates during the Revolutionary War. My 
mother, while father was at sea, had helped to nurse the 
sick people of Baltimore, and had herself died of the 
pestilence. Dr. Eccleston, a widower, assumed the care 
of Alexander and myself. 

Alexander, springing up like Jack’s bean-vine, yet 
growing in brawn and manliness as his height increased, 
was my elder by a number of years. He was much taller 
than I, yet I was growing too and had hopes of reaching, 
by the time I was sixteen, the chalk mark on our wall 
that showed Alexander to be five feet, ten inches high. 

It was on a dock in Baltimore that this talk took place. 


The Man from the East 


3 


The Egyptian Murad had come to our city from Wash¬ 
ington. What his business was no one could tell. Some 
said that he was a Turkish diplomat. Others said that 
he was a spy for the Barbary rulers. He attended 
services at the rector’s church, and had told someone 
that he was a native of Alexandria, Egypt. He had em¬ 
braced the Christian religion, he said, and had been so 
persecuted by the indignant Moslems that he had left 
Egypt for America. He appeared to have plenty of 
means, and, because there was such an air of romance 
about him, the people of Baltimore accepted him without 
much questioning, and were, indeed, rather proud that 
they had a man of mystery among them. 

Our presence on the pier was due to the arrival of 
Alexander’s ship, The Three Friends , from England. 
Alexander, after begging Dr. Eccleston in vain to permit 
him to make a sea voyage, had taken French leave. When 
news reached our house that The Three Friends had 
come into port, and that Alexander was one of the crew, 
we hurried down to greet him. The rector was angry 
and affectionate. The commodore was proud of the boy. 
As for me, I regarded Alexander as Ulysses was doubt¬ 
less regarded by the boys of his home town when he 
returned from his wanderings. 

It was the cargo of The Three Friends that caused the 
discussion, and that led the rector to open a closed chapter 
in his life. The ship had brought flower-patterned silken 
gowns, crimson taffetas, pearl necklaces, and other ex¬ 
quisite articles esteemed by women; and silk stockings, 
brilliant scarfs, beaver hats and scarlet cloaks for the 
men. The people welcomed these articles. The men had 
raised tobacco, caught fish, and gathered furs that they 
might buy for their families these rare luxuries from 


4 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

Europe. There were also, in the cargo, chairs of Russian 
leather, damask napkins, superb clocks, silver candlesticks 
and tankards, and a wealth of treasure of this nature. 

Alexander’s special gift for the commodore was a pipe. 
To the rector he gave a curious-shaped little bottle. 

“I found it in a curio shop in London,” he said. “The 
proprietor told me that it had been found in an Egyptian 
tomb.” 

Dr. Eccleston turned pale. Then, recovering himself, 
he took the present and held it towards us with what 
seemed to be real appreciation. I learned later that his 
pallor was due to the memories the queer little bottle 
awakened. 

“Bless me!” he said, “it’s a lacrimatory—a tear-bottle! 
I found many a one while I was excavating in Egypt. 
Some say that they are made to hold the tears of mourn¬ 
ers, but scholars will tell you that they are after all but 
receptacles for perfume and ointments.” 

Murad had approached. The sight of the curious 
bottle, which did not seem to me to be worth a minute’s 
talk, led him into a discussion of antiquities he had found 
in Egypt. The rector’s eyes kindled. Here was a subject 
that had once been his chief interest. Suddenly he 
launched forth into a description of a treasure tomb he 
had literally stumbled upon in the desert—a tomb upon 
which a later tomb had been built, so that, while the 
later tomb had been plundered by Arabs, the earlier tomb 
had remained a secret until he pried up a stone in the 
wall and discovered it. The rector who had attended 
Oxford, and had gone forth from college to explore the 
ruins of countries along the historic Mediterranean 
coasts, had made a rough map of the location of this 
tomb. He now began to tell of the treasures he had 


The Man from the East 


5 


found in the chamber: heavy gold masks, and breast¬ 
plates that, while barbarous in appearance, yet showed 
beauty of craftsmanship; bulls’ heads wrought in silver 
with horns of gold; beautiful jugs and cups, wrought in 
ivory, alabaster and amber; mummies whose brows and 
wrists were encircled with gems—a hoard of riches price¬ 
less both to the scholar and the fortune hunter. 

This description fired my imagination. It also stirred 
Murad. I saw his eyes glow and his fingers tremble. 
I wondered if his vehement demand that the rector 
should reveal the location of this cave was created by 
his interest in science or by pure lust for riches? As 
for myself, I confess that I thought only of the money 
into which these buried jewels and trinkets could be 
turned. 

Later, the commodore told us why the rector had been 
so swift to end his tale of the buried treasure. After 
he had discovered the tomb, somewhere on the African 
shore of the Mediterranean, he had covered it up and 
joined a caravan bound for Tripoli, meaning to organize 
a special expedition for further searches. His caravan 
was attacked by a tribe of bandits. A blow from a spear 
knocked him unconscious. When he regained his senses, 
his wife and child were gone. 

“They were taken as loot,” said the commodore. 
“Women and children are nothing more than baggage to 
those Arabs!” 

The husband wandered for months through the desert 
searching for his family. At last he was stricken with 
fever. Travelers found him and placed him aboard a 
ship bound for England. There he had plunged into 
religious work to keep from going mad. Blood-stained 
garments—proof that his wife and daughter had been 


6 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

slain—were sent him by an Arabian sheik. Later he had 
come to America as a missionary. 

He was now rector of Marley Chapel. It is located 
about nine miles from Baltimore, near the bridge at 
Marley Creek, which enters into Curtis Creek, a tributary 
of the Patapsco River. This chapel had been built long 
before the Revolution. The minister kept his residence 
within the town limits of Baltimore because it extended 
his field of helpfulness. The journey to the chapel was 
made on horseback, and whenever he went to service 
Alexander and myself followed him on our ponies, 
through sun, rain, sleet or snow. 

On fair-weather days, the church-yard resembled a 
race-course. The ladies, in gay clothes, had come in 
carriages. The men, mounted on fine horses and sump¬ 
tuously arrayed, rode beside them. The carriage wheels 
rattled. The negro drivers cracked their whips and 
shouted. The gentlemen loudly admonished the slaves. 
Over such a tumult the church bell, which was suspended 
from a tree, rang out to warn the people that the service 
was about to begin; then a hush fell over the countryside, 
broken only by the stamping and snorting of the mettle¬ 
some horses in the shed, or by the chuckles of the negro 
boys who tended them. 

To bring our story back to the present hour: Alex¬ 
ander had wandered off from our group with some of his 
shipmates. Suddenly there was an uproar. There were 
surly fellows in the crew and quarrelsome men in the 
crowd. Already Alexander had pointed out to me Black 
Peter, Muldoon, Swansen, and other sailors whom he 
avowed were the toughest men he had ever met. 

These were now confronted by our town rowdies. We 


The Man from the East 


7 


had a few men among our citizenship of whom we were 
heartily ashamed—men who knew how to fight in ways 
that surpassed for brutality those methods of warfare 
learned on shipboard. Eye-gouging, for instance; get¬ 
ting a man down; twisting a forefinger in the side-locks 
of his hair; thrusting, by means of this hold, a thumb 
into the victim’s eye, thereby threatening to force the 
eyeball from the socket if the sufferer did not cry “King’s 
cruse!” which, I suppose you know, meant “enough!” 

The seaman who had been challenged by Steve Dunn, 
the bully, was Ezra Wilcox, Alexander’s chum. He was 
a stranger in our town and Alexander was eager that he 
should think favorably of the people of Baltimore, who, 
everyone knows, are in the main, an open-hearted people. 
Angered at having his desire thwarted by the rowdy, 
Alexander rushed between Steve and Ezra, and himself 
took up Ezra’s battle. He and the tough locked arms in 
a punching and wrestling match, and were soon rolling 
over each other on the wharf. Steve, finding that he 
was getting the worst of the tussle, reached his hands 
towards Alexander’s side-locks. 

“Look out, Alexander,” I cried, dancing over the pair 
in a frenzy, “he’s trying to gouge you, man!” 

“Unfair! Unfair! No gouging!” the other sailors 
shouted, while the rest of the onlookers stood by with 
their sense of justice absorbed by their interest. 

Steve’s finger was buried in Alexander’s shock of hair, 
and his thumb crept closer to my brother’s eye. I was 
about to stoop in an attempt to break the brutal grip 
when Alexander released his hair by a desperate jerk 
that left a wisp between the ruffian’s fingers, rolled Steve 
over, held him face downward in a grip of iron, and 
rubbed his nose on the planks of the dock until blood 


8 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

spurted from it. Then, lifting the bully up at arm’s 
length, Alexander cast him against the palings with a 
force that stunned him. If someone had not grabbed 
Steve then, he would have rolled over into the river and 
few would have mourned him if he had sank and never 
bobbed up again. 

Steve’s friends advanced, pretending great indignation 
at Alexander’s roughness, but paused as Ezra Wilcox, 
Black Peter, Muldoon, and Swansen came forward itch¬ 
ing to take up the battle. 

“Enough of this,” cried the rector, roused from his 
brooding by the tussle, “Steve’s dug into my boy’s eye and 
paid for it with his own nose! We’ll call the affair quits, 
and I’ll ask you Baltimore folks to show courtesy to the 
strangers within your gates.” 

That afternoon we attended a fair on the chapel 
grounds. I was eager to show Alexander that I too had 
strength and skill, and at the fair, in a small way, my 
chance came. 

As we approached the grounds we saw that, among 
other sports, a gilt-laced hat had been placed on a greased 
pole, to be won by the man or boy who climbed the pole 
and slid down with the hat on his head. Alexander 
challenged me to try. 

Others had tried and had slid back defeated amidst 
much laughter. I gave a running leap, however, and 
clutched the pole a man’s height from the ground. My 
fingers and feet managed to find cracks and crevices. 
My knees stuck. It may have been that the dirt and 
sand in which I had taken the precaution to roll before 
making the attempt enabled my arms and legs to over¬ 
come the grease, or perhaps it was because those who had 
tried first had worn most of it away. From whatever 


The Man from the East 


9 


reason, I continued to climb, rubbing the outer part of 
my sleeve over the pole as I advanced, so that more of 
the grease was removed from my path. At last, amidst 
cheers, I reached the peak of the pole, seized the gilt- 
laced hat, donned it—although it fell down over my ears 
—and slid to the ground in triumph. 

SEA LONGINGS 

“If you can climb masts as well as you can climb 
poles,” said Alexander, “there’s no doubt that you’ll be 
a fine sailorman!” 

“He’ll do no mast-climbing!” said Dr. Eccleston. “One 
sailor in the family is enough. His climbing will be 
confined to the steps of a pulpit. I am training him for 
the ministry!” 

Alexander looked at me quizzically. I winked at him. 
He and I had agreed from childhood that ours should 
be a seafaring life. My brother had boldly carried out 
his intention to follow father’s example, but I, seeing 
that the rector had set his heart upon my adopting a 
shore career, had postponed making my declaration. I 
was immensely fond of the rector; I did not care to be 
the means of bringing further sadness to him, so I bided 
my time. 

Commodore Barney heard the rector rebuke Alexander 
and saw my wink. Bless me, behind the minister’s back, 
he winked too. He had told me that, when the United 
States began to build her navy, he expected to obtain a 
place for me on a frigate. “America’s prosperity on 
the sea is just beginning,” he said. “Don’t turn your 
back on your natural calling. One voyage in a privateer 
in one of the wars that are on the horizon will make 


io Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

your fortune. I’ll take you to sea with me. Let the 
dominie look elsewhere for his recruits!” 

The rector and the commodore were great comrades, 
but on the subject of a career for me they never agreed. 

Commodore Barney had been a hero to Alexander and 
myself as far back as we could remember. He was a 
part of our lives from the first—an unofficial second 
guardian. I have heard him declare that he was on his 
way to our house to adopt us when he met the rector 
coming out with one of us clinging to each hand. Dr. 
Eccleston had told him then, the commodore stated, that 
a seafaring man was no fit guardian for children. 

The commodore was a burly, pink-cheeked, big- 
hearted man. What a dandy he was! When on shore he 
wore a cocked hat, a coat with large lace cuffs, and a 
cape cut low to show his neck-stock of fine linen cambric. 
His breeches were closely fitted with large buckles. He 
wore silk stockings and large buckled shoes. No one 
who saw him sauntering along Market Street would take 
him to be a sailor, although his tongue betrayed his call¬ 
ing. Nautical terms, strange oaths, shipping topics were 
forever on his lips. His clothes spoke of the ballroom, 
but his language had the tang of the ship’s deck and the 
salt wind. 

He was fond of the ladies. It often amused us to 
see him dancing attendance on a maid who minced along 
in brocade or taffeta, with her skirts ballooning from 
the hoops underneath, with bright-colored shoes peeping 
out from beneath her skirts, and with an enormous 
plume in her big bonnet that waved towards the com¬ 
modore’s cocked hat. The hooped skirts seemed to be 
trying to keep her escort at a distance, while he struggled 
manfully to pour his words into her ear. 


The Man from the East 


ii 


Murad was still hovering around us. Evidently anxious 
to appease the commodore, he had begun to talk to him 
on sea topics. The commodore, in turn, started to draw 
out the Egyptian as to opportunities American shippers 
might have to sell cargoes of American gocJs to Mediter¬ 
ranean cities. 

“In Barbary, Egypt and beyond/’ said Murad, “will 
lie your country’s chief market. The ports of the 
Mediterranean are eager for your goods. Lads like 
these-” he fixed glowing eyes on Alexander and my¬ 

self—“will live to make their fortunes in the Mediter¬ 
ranean.” 

“I don’t know but what you’re right,” said the com¬ 
modore, “if someone will kindly sweep those Barbary 
buccaneers out of the way. Looks as if we’ll have to 
build a squadron to do what the navies of Europe have 
failed to do through all these centuries. Matters are 
coming to a head between our country and the pirate 
nests of Barbary. I’ve heard reports of American ships 
being captured by ships sent out by the ruler of Algiers. 
It may take us a little time to wake up, but in the end 
we’re going to stop that!” 

“That,” said Murad suavely, “is nothing new. If you 
lived in the Orient, my dear commodore, you would think 
little of it. It’s merely the way the rulers of the Barbary 
countries have of notifying your new country that it’s 
America’s duty to pay them toll—ships and jewels and 
gold. All of the nations of Europe pay them for pro¬ 
tection, and of course, in justice to themselves and those 
who pay them tribute, they cannot exempt America. 
If I were your President, I would send liberal presents 
every year to the princes of Algiers, Tunis, Tripoli and 



12 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

Morocco. Then, sir, American ships and sailors would 
have nothing to fear in the Mediterranean.” 

“Just so!” said the commodore. He cast a long look 
at the Egyptian, glanced around at us to see how we 
took this proposition, and chewed his tobacco with fierce 
energy. Then he exploded: 

“I’d blow every one of those pirate nests out of the 
water before I’d pay one of those bloody Bashaws a six¬ 
pence !” 

“Then!” said Murad, “I’m afraid American commerce 
will find itself barred from the Mediterranean! I have 
no interest in the corsairs. I was merely trying to point 
out a way by which your skippers could find new markets 
over there without being attacked or imprisoned.” 

“Well, just belay that advice when you’re talking to a 
man who has fought for, and still will fight for the honor 
of his country!” growled the commodore. 

We followed the old sailor. 

“That fellow’s in this land for no good!” the com¬ 
modore said to the rector. “The last time I attended 
a session of Congress, I saw him listening to the debates. 
I reckon he’s keeping the rulers of Barbary informed 
of what’s going on over here. Those fellows want to 
know how rich our country is, so that they can tax us 
all that our finances can stand. I wouldn’t be surprised, 
either, if Murad’s not sending advices of our sailings, so 
that those pirates can be on the watch for our ships! 

“Both England and France want to bar us from the 
trade of the Orient, and their agents will convey to them 
there Bashaws any news this sneaking Murad sends them. 
Christian convert—my aunt! Once a Moslem always a 
Moslem! A trapper of Christians—that’s what I think 
him!” 



•‘I’D BLOW EVERY ONE OF THOSE PIRATE NESTS OUT 01- 
THE WATER BEFORE I’D PAY ONE OF THOSE BLOODY 
BASHAWS A SIXPENCE!” SAID THE COMMODORE. 




















































/ 



The Man from the East 


IS 


Murad went on his way and we went ours. I was to 
have plenty of occasion to reflect on the commodore’s 
opinion of the Oriental. 

Alexander stayed with us for two months after his 
return from England. Then he hurriedly shipped on a 
schooner bound for Boston. Its skipper, when he re¬ 
turned to Baltimore, brought us a note from my brother. 
In it he advised us that he had shipped on board the 
schooner Marie sailing from Boston for Cadiz. This was 
in April, 1784. Over a year passed without bringing tid¬ 
ings of my brother. I had begun to fear that his ship 
had gone down, although the good rector, to comfort 
me, grumbled that there was a special Providence that 
took care of fools. 




CHAPTER II 


CAPTURED BY CORSAIRS 


“What does it mean to them that somewhere men are free? 
Naked and scourged and starved, they groan in slavery!” 

HE rector had encouraged me to browse through 



X his library. He said that ministers should be well- 
read men. It was no hardship for me—I was fond of 
books. One day, as I was reading “Hakluyt’s Voyages,” 
he rushed into the room. His usually pale face was red 
and distorted from excitement. 

“David, I’ve news of your brother!” he cried. “I told 
you that there was a Providence that safeguarded scape¬ 
graces ! He’s in Algiers. He’s been captured by pirates! 
They’re holding him in slavery for ransom!” 

“Humph,” said the commodore, who had followed him 
into the room, “I don’t call that being guided by a special 
Providence!” 

“Well,” the rector said, “they might have killed him, 
or he might have died of a fever in that pestilential 
country. Yes, I think Providence is watching over him!” 

The news had come in a bulky envelope that had been 
forwarded to Dr. Eccleston by the State Department. 

“Read that,” cried the rector, tossing the letter into 
my lap, “and see what becomes of lads who leave com¬ 
fortable homes to sail the ocean!” 

He lit his pipe and fell to brooding, while I gleaned 


Captured by Corsairs 17 

from the roughly scribbled epistle the story of Alex¬ 
ander’s capture by Turkish corsairs. 

That the Mediterranean Sea was infested by pirates 
Captain Stephens, with whom Alexander sailed, well 
knew. But Cadiz lay outside of the usual zone of the 
buccaneers, and the idea of danger from corsairs scarcely 
entered the thoughts of the skipper and his men. Yet, 
on July 25, 1785, while the Marie was passing Cape 
Saint Vincent, she was pursued by a rakish lateen-sailed 
vessel. Despite desperate attempts to outsail her pursuer, 
she was soon overtaken. Threatened by fourteen ugly 
cannon, she awaited the approach of the stranger. 

The Marie was hailed in Spanish. Captain Stephens 
shouted in reply the name and destination of his vessel. 
He had little doubt that he would be allowed to proceed 
and was on the point of giving orders to resume the 
voyage, when a crowd of seamen in Turkish dress ap¬ 
peared on the deck of the vessel, which now was found 
to be an Algerine corsair. 

The dark, bearded faces of the Moslems were for¬ 
bidding enough, but when the Mussulmans drew near with 
savage gestures and a wild brandishing of weapons, the 
Marie's men knew that either death or slavery awaited 
them. 

A launch thronged with Moors and Arabs, armed with 
pistols, scimeters, pikes and spears, put out from the 
side of the zebec. They fired several volleys that came 
dangerously close to the heads of the American sailors, 
and threatened to slaughter the crew if they resisted. 

Captain Stephens, when a pistol was held against his 
breast, surrendered his ship. He and his crew were trans¬ 
ferred to the corsair, first having been stripped of all 
their clothes except their undergarments. They were 


18 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

pricked and prodded until they reached the forepart of 
the Algerine ship, where the commander, Rais Ibrahim, 
a vicious-looking old Moor, who kept his hand on the 
pistol that protruded from his sash as if his fingers itched 
to fire a bullet into a Christian’s body, repeated the 
threat of massacre if the captives disobeyed his orders. 

Captain Stephens, who spoke Spanish, went as far as 
was safe in protesting against the seizure. 

Rais Ibrahim, crying upon Allah to wipe out all Chris¬ 
tians, replied that the ships of Barbary were no longer 
limited by the Mediterranean Sea. He declared that 
Algiers had made a peace with her ancient enemy Spain 
and was free now to send her vessels through the Strait 
into the Atlantic. 

‘'Have you papers,” he sneered, “showing that your 
country is paying tribute to the Dey of Algiers? If your 
government has not purchased immunity from attack by 
our corsairs, do not protest to me against your capture, 
but rather blame your rulers for neglecting to follow the 
wise example of the nations of Europe, who pay my 
lord the gold that he demands!” 

A Moslem crew was placed aboard the Marie, and she 
was sailed as a prize into Algiers. There the prisoners 
found in captivity the crew of the American ship 
Dauphin , under Captain Richard O’Brien, who, with his 
mate, Andrew Montgomery, and five seamen, had been 
captured by an Algerine corsair near Lisbon. 

To announce to the city that he was approaching with 
a prize the Moslem captain fired gun after gun. The 
Port Admiral came out in a launch to examine the prize 
and prisoners so that he might make a report to the Dey; 
the people on shore gathered at the wharves to gloat 
over the new wealth that had come to the city; the bar- 


Captured by Corsairs 19 

rooms became crowded with revelers; everyone except 
the slaves rejoiced. 

The captors were received by their relatives and friends 
on shore with cheers and exultation. Estimates of the 
value of the prisoners and the ship passed from one to 
another. The captives were given filthy rags to cover 
their nakedness, and were marched through the streets 
between rows of jeering infidels. Their destination was 
the palace of the Dey. They were driven across the 
courtyard of the palace, where they entered a hall. They 
then were pushed and prodded by their guards up five 
flights of stairs, where they went through a narrow, dark 
entrance into the Dey’s audience room. 

He sat, a dark, fat, greasy creature, upon a low bench 
that was covered with cushions of embroidered velvet. 

He viewed the Americans with great resentment. 

“I have sent several times to your nation/’ he said 
through his interpreter, a renegade Englishman, “offer¬ 
ing to make peace with them if they would satisfy my 
requirements. They have never sent me a definite reply. 
Since they have treated me so disdainfully, I will never 
make peace with them! As for you, Christian dogs, you 
shall eat stones!” 

The captives were driven from his presence and 
marched to the bagnio, or prison, where they joined six 
hundred Christian slaves of various nationalities—poor, 
broken-spirited fellows, weighed down with chains. 

Their names were entered in the prison book; each of 
them was given a blanket, a scanty supply of coarse 
clothing, and a small loaf of black, sour bread. They 
slept on the floor, with a thin blanket between them and 
the cold stones. 

The next day each of them had a chain weighing about 


20 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

forty pounds placed on him. One end was bound around 
the waist, and the other end was fastened by a 
ring about the ankle. They were then assigned various 
tasks for the government. The iron ring on their ankles, 
they learned, was the badge of public service. Though 
it was a cruel weight, it protected them from abuse by 
fanatical Moslems. 

Some of the captives were employed at rigging and 
fitting out cruisers, and in transporting cargoes and other 
goods about the city. Because of the narrow streets the 
articles they moved could be carried only by means of 
poles on their shoulders. If they bumped into a citizen 
they were loudly cursed and beaten. The Dey was build¬ 
ing a new mosque, and many of the Christians were 
employed in transporting blocks of stone from the wharf 
to the building. Four men were employed to move one 
stone, and only the strongest could bear up under such 
a load. Some of the captives were sent into the moun¬ 
tains to blast rocks. Under the direction of Moslem 
overseers, who cruelly beat them on the slightest excuse, 
the prisoners rolled rocks weighing from twenty to forty 
tons down the mountain, where they were then hoisted 
on carts, drawn by teams of two hundred or more slaves 
to a wharf two miles distant, where the stones were 
placed on scows and carried across the harbor to be fitted 
into a breakwater. 

The prison, to which they returned after the labors 
of the day, was an oblong, hollow square, three stories 
high. The ground floor was composed of taverns that 
were kept by favored slaves who paid a goodly sum for 
rent, as well as for the liquor they sold. In this way a 
few of the slaves were able to earn enough money to 
purchase their freedom. These taverns were so dark 


Captured by Corsairs 21 

that lamps had to be kept burning even by day. They 
were filled with Turks, Moors, Arabs and Christians, who 
often became drunk and sang and babbled in every 
language. 

The second and third floors were surrounded by gal¬ 
leries that led to cell-like rooms in which the captives 
slept. These cells were four deep to a floor, and hung 
one over the other like ships’ berths. They swarmed with 
vermin. The air was too foul to breathe. If any of the 
captives rebelled—there was the bastinado! The culprit 
was thrown down on his face; his head and hands were 
tied; an infidel sat on his shoulders; his legs were held 
up to present the soles of his feet; and two infidels de¬ 
livered from one hundred to five hundred blows. 

If a slave committed a very serious offense, he might 
be beheaded, impaled, or burnt alive. For murdering 
a Mohammedan one slave was cast off the walls of the 
city upon iron hooks fastened into the wall, where he 
lingered in agony for many hours before he perished. 

The worst danger the Christians faced was an insidious 
one—the plague. In the hot, damp air of Africa a fever 
arises from decaying animal substances, which is spread 
about by swarms of locusts. A person may be attacked 
by only a slight fever, but he soon becomes delirious 
and too weak to move. In five days his body begins 
to turn black and then death comes. It is the black 
pestilence, and it attacks slaves and rulers without choice. 
If it had not been for a hospital maintained by Spanish 
priests, most of the captives would have died. As it was, 
many Christians perished. 

Murad came into our thoughts as we brooded over 
Alexander’s plight. He was still in Baltimore and still 


22 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

attended the chapel services. Did he have influence 
enough, we asked, to obtain my brother’s freedom? 

The commodore had sworn that the Egyptian went to 
church only for the purpose of ingratiating himself with 
Americans upon whom he had designs. The rector had 
retorted that he could not allow himself to suspect one 
of his flock of any but pure motives when entering the 
house of God. He himself, I felt, disliked the man from 
the East, but he concealed it well. Therefore, when 
Murad came to our door, the rector invited him into 
the library and told him briefly what had happened. 

“I am heart-broken over it!” Murad exclaimed, gazing 
at me with his great liquid eyes, “and I am helpless 
because I am no longer a follower of Mohammed; yet 
your Government will surely be able to ransom your 
brother and his comrades. I do not think their lives 
will be in danger if your statesmen appropriate the money 
promptly. It’s shocking, of course, yet it’s quite the 
usual thing to pay these ransoms. England, Spain, 
France—all do it. You see, ever since the days when 
the Queen of Sheba brought tribute to King Solomon, 
the Orientals have been trained to look for gifts from 
foreigners who touch their shores.” 

The rector looked dismayed at this attempt to justify 
kidnapping by the Scriptures. “It’s time,” he said, “for 
this western world to teach those ruffians that blackmail 
is blackmail and that murder is murder!” 

He fumbled with the envelope that had contained Alex¬ 
ander’s letter. A slip of paper slid out. He read to us 
this memorandum, written by my brother: 


Captured by Corsairs 


23 


Amount of Ransom demanded by the Bey of Algiers for the Release 

of American captives 


“Crew of ship Dauphin : 

Richard O’Brien, captain, ransom demanded 

Andrew Montgomery, mate. 

Jacob Tessanoir, French passenger. 

Wm. Paterson, seaman. 

Philip Sloan. 

Peleg Lorin. 

John Robertson. 

James Hall. 


Algerine Sequins 


2,000 

1,500 

2,000 

1,500 

725 

725 

725 
- >> 


“Crew of the Schooner Marie: 

Isaac Stephen, captain, ransom demanded 

Alexander Forsyth, mate. 

George Smith, seaman. 

John Gregory. 

James Hermet. 


Algerine Sequins 


2,000 

1,500 

900 

725 

725 


» 


“How much is 1,500 Algerine sequins?” I asked 
Murad. 

“A sequin,” he explained, “amounts to eight shillings 
sterling, so that 12,000 shillings will be required for 
Alexander, and 126,000 shillings for the entire lot. There 
must be added to this sum 10 or 20 per cent of the total 
as bribes to the Dey’s officers, and as commission to 
brokers. There are Jewish merchants over there whose 
chief business it is to procure the release of captives— 
for a consideration! 

“I know such a merchant in Algiers,” Murad went on, 
“I shall write to him to interest himself in the captives 
and to use his influence to see that they are kindly treated. 
Perhaps he will be able to reduce the amount of the 















24 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

ransom. When the money is raised, I shall be at your 
service for negotiations.” 

He bowed himself out. The rector went to the window 
and stood staring out after him. “It can’t be,” I heard 
him say, “and yet, if the commodore heard what he said 
to me, he’d swear the fellow was an agent for the cor¬ 
sairs !” 


CHAPTER III 


BARBARY AND THE BUCCANEERS 

“In lofty strains the bard shall tell 
How Truxton fought, how Somers fell, 

How gallant Preble’s daring host 
Triumphed along the Moorish coast, 

Forced the proud infidel to treat , 

And brought the Crescent to their feet!” 

I WAS straining like a leashed hound to board a ship 
and fight for my brother’s freedom, but no way was 
open to secure the release of the captives except by 
diplomacy. As a vent for my feelings in those first weeks 
of hot rage, I plunged into a study of the history of 
the Barbary pirates. Every outrage done by them was 
the occasion for an outburst of vain anger on my part. 
But was it, after all, vain? Later I had my wish and 
shared in a campaign to free three hundred American 
prisoners from captivity in Tripoli. 

Meanwhile, we lost no time in sending to Alexander 
as comforting an answer as we could compose. He had 
asked that we send his mail to the care of the English 
consul who, he wrote, had obtained the consent of the 
Dey to send and receive letters for the American captives. 

Dr. Eccleston assured Alexander that Mr. Samuel 
Smith, Maryland’s representative in Congress, had taken 
an interest in the case and would urge Congress to pro¬ 
cure his speedy release. It was easy to predict a swift 
release—but hard, we soon found, to obtain one. I have 


25 


26 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

heard men joke about the law’s delays, but the delays 
of diplomats are longer yet. Alexander's captivity was 
to endure for years! 

Fortunately for me in my pursuit of knowledge con¬ 
cerning these buccaneers, I could talk to the rector who 
had -years before traveled through Mohammedan coun¬ 
tries. He poured out to me freely his recollections of 
the miserable nations that occupied the African coast 
of the Mediterranean. 

In books concerning these pirates his library was not 
lacking. He was a great bookworm—some of his people 
whispered that he would trade the soul of one of his 
flock for a rare book. He made friends with skippers, 
it was said, mainly to have them bring him the latest 
books from abroad. By trading with sailors, school¬ 
masters and preachers, he had acquired many volumes, 
among which were many books on travel and explora¬ 
tion. 

Wrecking and piracy had been followed by the in¬ 
habitants of the communities bordering on the Mediter¬ 
ranean since the time of Odysseus. The rector read 
to me from Thucydides how Minos of Greece used his 
fleet to “put down piracy as far as he was able, in order 
that his revenues might come in.” From Homer he read 
the passage, “Do you wander for trade or at random 
like pirates over the sea?” 

In the first half of the last century before Christ, I 
learned, Cicilia and Crete were the chief buccaneering 
nations on the Mediterranean. Rome had ruined all of 
her rivals, and therefore made no effort to guard the seas 
from corsairs. Refugees from all nations joined the 
pirate fleets of Cicilia and Crete. The small communi¬ 
ties surrounding these pirate states were forced to become 


Barbary and the Buccaneers 27 

allies of the pirate rulers. In addition to seizing ships 
and goods, the buccaneers became slavers, attacking small 
towns and carrying away men, women and girls. The 
island of Delos became a clearing-house for this traffic, 
and in one day ten thousand slaves were sold. It was 
said that while the harbor of Delos was supposed to offer 
mariners protection from pirates, the crew of a ship 
that anchored alongside a merchant vessel might be the 
kind that made merry with the merchantman’s crew on 
shore, and, after learning of her cargo and destination, 
might follow her out of the harbor to cut the throats of 
her crew on the high seas. 

Along the southern coast of the Mediterranean, in that 
part which is now called Barbary or Northern Africa, 
where Morocco, Algeria, Tunis and Tripoli lie, the gal¬ 
leys of Phoenician traders roved in these early times, 
exploring the rivers. 

Following these traders came Carthaginian warriors 
who founded colonies upon this coast. Among these 
communities was the famous city of Carthage, that in 
time brought forth the mighty leader Hannibal. 

Then came the Romans, who conquered the Cartha¬ 
ginians and turned their cities to ruins. Thus the entire 
territory became Roman African colonies. 

Over six centuries after the birth of Christ, the Sara¬ 
cens began to invade this region. Their wars continued 
until by the eighth century all Roman authority was 
swept away, and Mohammedan rule was established 
throughout the country. 

“red-beard” 

Born of my reading and thinking about Mediterranean 
pirates, through my dreams went a pageant of cruel 


28 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

corsairs and pitiable captives. There was the corsair 
chief Uruj Barbarossa, who, hearing on his native island 
of Lesbos of the rich galleons that passed through the 
Mediterranean, entered the Sea in 1504 with a fleet of 
robber galleys and made an alliance with the ruler of 
Tunis whereby that port became the center for his thiev¬ 
ing. This Barbarossa, or Red-Beard, was a pirate of the 
heroic order. On one of his first voyages out of Tunis 
he fell in with two galleys belonging to Pope Julius II, 
bearing rich merchandise from Genoa. These galleys 
were far bigger than his two galleots, yet Red-Beard 
attacked so fiercely that he overcame the foremost galley. 
As the second galley came up without having seen the 
outcome of the battle, he arrayed his sailors in the clothes 
of the Christian captives and, taking the second galley by 
surprise, captured her too. His victories made Europe 
tremble. Emperor Charles V of Spain in 1516 sent ten 
thousand veterans to Barbary to end Red-Beard’s career. 
Barbarossa’s army of fifteen hundred men was sur¬ 
prised by the Spaniards in crossing a river. Having 
crossed, he turned back on hearing the cries of his men 
and died fighting gallantly in their midst. 

Next through my fancy passed Kheyr-ed-din, Red- 
Beard’s brother. Having slain Red-Beard, the Spaniards 
could have driven the corsairs out of Africa, but instead 
of waging further war, the army returned to Spain. 
Kheyr-ed-din then assumed command of the sea rovers, 
and with a fleet of one hundred and fifty galleys and 
brigantines engaged an Allied Christian fleet of one hun¬ 
dred and forty-six galleons under Admiral Andrea Doria. 
The battle amounted only to a skirmish, for Andrea 
Doria, although his vessels were manned by sixty thou¬ 
sand men—forces far greater than that of the infidels— 


Barbary and die Buccaneers 29 

retired when the Moslems had captured seven of his 
galleys. 

GALLANT DON JOHN 

Next in the pageant passed the great corsairs of the 
battle of Lepanto, where the Turks, then at the height 
of their glory, suffered a crushing defeat at the hands 
of the brilliant young emperor, Don John of Austria. 

The Moslems, before this historic date of October 7, 
1571, were threatening to overwhelm Europe. They de¬ 
sired to make the rich island of Cyprus one of their 
stepping-stones to the mainland. Venice, who owned the 
island, resisted the claims of the infidels. The Moslems 
thereupon threatened to conquer Venice herself. That 
city’s fleet was too small to cope with the great navy of 
the Turks. Philip II of Spain, appealed to by Pope 
Pius V, went to her aid. The Holy League to protect 
Christendom against the infidels was formed. 

Don John of Austria, brother of Philip, was chosen 
to lead the Christian fleet. He was tall and handsome, 
and, although only twenty-four, had distinguished him¬ 
self in wars against the Moors. He went to join his 
navy in a dress of white velvet and cloth of gold. A 
crimson scarf floated from his breast. Snow-white 
plumes adorned his cap. He looked every inch a hero, 
and every inch a hero he proved himself to be. 

He found himself at the head of the greatest Christian 
fleet that had ever assembled to fight the corsairs. Three 
hundred vessels and eighty thousand men sailed forth 
under his command. The men were incited to battle by 
news of the almost unbelievable cruelties the Moslems 
had inflicted upon the Venetian garrison of a city in 
Cyprus which they had captured. The captain of the 


30 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

Venetian troops, Bragadino, had had his ears and nose 
cut off. He was next led around before the Turkish 
batteries, crawling on hands and knees, laden with two 
baskets of earth. Whenever he passed the quarters of 
the Turkish general, he was forced to kiss the ground. 
Next, with Mustapha, the Moslem general, looking on, 
he was flayed alive, and his skin, stuffed with straw, was 
then paraded through the town. 

Resolved to end forever such atrocities, the Christian 
fleet sought that of Ali Pasha, the Turkish admiral. 
Three hundred galleys, with one hundred and twenty 
thousand men, composed the Moslem fleet. They came 
on with their decks covered with flags and streamers, 
while, hid by this glory of banners, the galley slaves, 
chained to the oars, toiled beneath the lash. The two 
fleets met near the Gulf of Lepanto. Don John’s lookout, 
from his perch on the main-top, discovered a white sail. 
Behind it came sail after sail, until the full strength of 
the Turkish navy was in sight. 

Don John ran up his signal for battle—a white flag—• 
and went in his gig from galley to galley, encouraging 
his men. 

“Ready, Sir, and the sooner the better!” they replied 
to his question as to their preparedness. 

As a last act before battle, Don John unfurled a 
standard containing the figure of the Saviour, fell on 
his knees and prayed for God’s blessing on his cause, 
then formed his line of battle. The fire from the huge 
floating castles that belonged to his fleet created a panic 
among the Turks and broke their line. The ships of 
both sides came together in a confused mass, so that 
their decks, almost joined together, formed a huge plat¬ 
form upon which the Christians and Turks battled. 


Barbary and the Buccaneers 31 

Ali Pasha, the Moslem admiral, came alongside of 
Don John’s ship and was on the point of boarding it 
when the galley of the Spanish captain Colonna rammed 
his vessel, while its crew poured a destroying fire across 
the Turkish galley’s deck. Ali Pasha was slain. The 
Ottoman emblem fluttered down from the mast of the 
flagship, and the Christian ensign rose in its place. 
Heartened by this victory, the other Christian galleys 
triumphed over their foes. Such Turkish ships as were 
able to escape fled, pursued by the Christians. The 
Moslems lost over two hundred ships. Twenty thousand 
of their men perished. The Christian fleet .lost over 
seven thousand men. Twelve thousand Christian slaves 
were set free from the Turkish galleys. 

The Pope who had urged that the Christian fleet be 
assembled cried in thanksgiving: “There was a man sent 
from God, whose name was John.” 

CERVANTES—WARRIOR AND AUTHOR 

Following these great corsairs came cruel, mean- 
spirited buccaneers, whom I was glad to dismiss and 
replace in my imaginings with that noble captive of the 
Turkish pirates, Miguel Cervantes, who, after his release 
was to write the immortal book, “Don Quixote.” 

In 1575 Cervantes set sail from Naples for the coast 
of Spain in the vessel El Sol. His brother, Rodrigo, 
went with him. They were returning to Spain, their 
native land, after serving as soldiers of fortune abroad. 
Cervantes was the son of an impoverished nobleman of 
Castile. He had commanded a company of soldiers on 
board the Marquesa at the Battle of Lepanto. In this 
battle he lost his left arm. He bore with him a letter 
of testimonial from Don John, stating that he was as 


32 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

valiant as he was unlucky, and recommending him to 
Philip II of Spain. 

His ship was almost in sight of the desired haven. 
The coast of Barbary which lay on the shore of the 
Mediterranean opposite from Spain was feared by the 
Spaniards because it was infested with pirates, but it 
seemed that on this occasion they were to escape attack. 

Suddenly, however, three corsair galleys, commanded 
by Arnaut Memi, pushed out from the Algerine shore. 
The El Sol’s captain tried his utmost to escape, but was 
overtaken. A desperate engagement followed, in which 
Cervantes fought with valor, but the pirates were in 
overwhelming numbers and the master of the El Sol 
was at last forced to strike his colors. 

Deli Memi, a renegade Greek, took Cervantes as his 
captive. Finding upon his person the letters of recom¬ 
mendation from Don John to the King of Spain, the 
pirate thought that a rich and powerful person had be¬ 
come his prisoner and so set a high ransom price upon 
him. To make Cervantes the more anxious to be de¬ 
livered from captivity, Deli Memi loaded him with chains 
and treated him with continued cruelty. 

As a matter of fact, Cervantes was poor both in money 
and the means of borrowing it. His father, in the second 
year of his sons’ captivity, managed to raise enough 
funds to secure the release of one of them, but Deli 
Memi, thinking Miguel of more importance than his 
brother, kept the future author and set free Rodrigo. 
Upon this, Cervantes planned to escape. In a cavern 
six miles from Algiers a number of fugitive slaves were 
hiding. Rodrigo promised to send a Spanish ship to take 
away these refugees. The captive Cervantes was to join 
them. The ship arrived but some Algerine fisherman 


Barbary and the Buccaneers 33 

gave the alarm and the vessel was obliged to put out to 
sea without the fugitives. 

The Dey of Algiers, learning of the hiding place from 
a treacherous comrade of Cervantes, sent soldiers to seize 
the escaped slaves. He was a murderous ruler. Cer¬ 
vantes later in “Don Quixote” gave the Dey eternal in¬ 
famy by thus painting one of the characters in his colors: 

“Every day he hanged a slave; impaled one; cut 
off the ears of another; and this upon so little 
animus, or so entirely without cause, that the 
Turks would own he did it merely for the sake 
of doing it and because it was his nature.” 

Cervantes took the blame for the entire project on him¬ 
self. Threatened with torture and death, he held to his 
story. The ruler, amazed at his boldness, departed from 
his usual custom and purchased Cervantes from Deli 
Memi for five hundred crowns. 

Again and again the Spaniard tried to escape, always 
at the risk of being punished with death. At last, when 
his master was called to Constantinople, and was taking 
Cervantes with him in chains, a priest obtained his ran¬ 
som for one hundred pounds, English money, and Cer¬ 
vantes was free to go home and enter upon the literary 
career that brought forth “Don Quixote.” 

The nations of Europe by persistent effort could have 
wiped out piracy along the entire Barbary coast, but 
instead they continued to allow their shipping to be 
preyed upon, paid ransoms meekly, and sent bribes in the 
form of presents to the greedy and insolent rulers. 
France incited the pirates to prey upon the shipping of 
Spain; Great Britain and Holland urged the corsairs to 
destroy the sea commerce of France—each great power 


34 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

sought the pirates as an aid to bar their rivals from the 
trade of the Mediterranean. 

The consuls sent from Europe to these provinces were 
often seized as hostages by the pashas, deys and beys 
to whom they toadied, and if the fleets of their countries 
in a spasm of rage at some fresh indignity attacked the 
Barbary ports, the consuls were tortured. For instance, 
when the French shelled Algiers in 1683, the Vicar 
Apostolic Jean de Vacher, acting as consul, was blown 
to pieces from a cannon’s mouth. 

DAUNTLESS MASTER NICHOLS 

While we who were interested in the captives lamented 
that the nations of the world, our country included, were 
so slow to wipe out these pirates, my thoughts ran back 
to the story of an adventure that had been passed on to 
me through some family chronicles, of one of our an¬ 
cestors who fought against this same race of corsairs. 
This Forsyth was an English sailor. He shipped in the 
Dolphin, of London, along with thirty-six men and two 
boys, under Master Nichols, a skilful and experienced 
skipper. 

While in sight of the island of Sardinia, in the Mediter¬ 
ranean Sea they caught sight of a sail making towards 
them from the shore. Master Nichols sent my forbear 
into the maintop, where he sighted five ships following 
the one that had already been discovered. By their ap¬ 
pearance they were taken to be Turkish corsairs. 

The Dolphin was armed with nineteen guns and nine 
carronades, the latter pieces being used to fire bullets 
for the purpose of sweeping the decks when the ship 
was boarded by enemies. These guns were made ready 
to resist an attack, the men were armed with muskets, 


















































































































































































































Barbary and the Buccaneers 37 

pistols and cutlasses, and the assault was awaited with 
courage. Master Nichols, upon the poop, waved his 
sword as confidently as if the battle was already won. 
His example did much to hearten the crew for the ordeal 
confronting them. 

When the foremost ship came within range, Master 
Nichols ordered his trumpeter to sound and his gunner 
to aim and fire. The leading ship, which had gotten the 
wind of the Dolphin , returned the fire as fiercely. This 
ship, which was under the command of a renegade Eng¬ 
lishman named Walshingham who acted as admiral of 
the Moslem fleet, came alongside of the Dolphin . She 
had twice as many pieces of ordnance as the Dolphin, 
and had two hundred and fifty men to match against the 
forty men on the English ship’s decks. These boarded 
the Dolphin on the larboard quarter, and came towards 
the poop with pikes and hatchets upraised to slaughter. 

However, the Dolphin's crew had a carronade in the 
captain’s cabin, or round house, and with bullets from 
this they drove the infidels back, while their own gunners 
continued to pour shot into the corsair. At last the 
Turkish ship was shot through and through and was in 
danger of sinking. Walshingham therefore withdrew his 
men from the Dolphin's deck and sailed his ship ahead 
of the English vessel, receiving a final broadside as he 
passed. 

Following Walshingham’s ship, two other large Turkish 
vessels came to attack, one on the starboard quarter, and 
the other on the port. Each of them had twenty-five 
cannon and about two hundred and fifty men. With 
scimiters, hatchets, pikes and other weapons, they poured 
on to the Dolphin's deck where the others had left off. 
One of the most daring of the Turks climbed into the 


38 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

maintop of the Dolphin to haul down the flag, but the 
steward of the ship, espying him, took aim with his 
musket. The Turk dropped dead into the sea, and the 
flag still floated. 

These boarders were repelled in the same fashion. 
The Dolphin's crew fired their small battery with great 
effect into both ships. They too, torn and battered, 
passed on at last to mend their leaks. 

After them came two more ships as well-armed and 
as well-manned as those that had passed out of the fight. 
The gunners of the Dolphin disposed of one of these 
quickly, and she hurried to get out of range. The crew 
of the other one, however, approaching on the starboard 
side, boarded the Dolphin where the earlier assailants 
had entered, and swarmed up the deck crying in the 
Turkish tongue: “Yield yourselves! Yield yourselves!” 
Their leaders also promised that the lives of the English¬ 
men would be spared, and their ship and goods delivered 
back to them. 

“Give no ear to them! Die rather than yield!” cried 
Captain Nichols. His men fought on doggedly, plying 
their ordnance against the ship; playing upon the board¬ 
ers with small shot; meeting them in hand-to-hand en¬ 
counters. 

Suddenly smoke poured out from the hatches of the 
Dolphin. The infidels, fearing that their own ship would 
catch fire from the burning vessel, retreated from the 
Dolphin, and permitted their ship to fall far astern of 
her. * 

The Dolphin's intrepid crew now set to work to quench 
the flames and succeeded. A haven was near, into which 
they put, the enemy ships having gone ashore in other 
places to save themselves from wreck. 


Barbary and the Buccaneers 39 

In these three battles, the Dolphin lost only six men 
and one boy, with eight men and one boy hurt. The 
Moslems lost scores of men. Master Nichols was 
wounded twice. The ship arrived safely in the Thames, 
near London—a plain merchant ship, manned by ordinary 
sailors, but as meritorious of honor as any ship that 
fought under Nelson or Drake. 

I was glad that the story had been passed down to 
me. I thought of the two boys in the crew—one killed, 
the other wounded. I resolved that when my chance came 
to help rid the seas of these buccaneers I would try to 
fight as nobly. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE ROSE OF EGYPT 

T HE Egyptian Murad had surprised the sailors of 
Baltimore by purchasing a schooner that had seen 
service as a privateer. He had changed its name from 
Sally to The Rose of Egypt. He announced that he 
intended to open trade with Mediterranean cities, and 
that he would make our town his headquarters. Enlist¬ 
ing a crew from idle men along the wharves, he began 
to load the vessel with goods for which there was a 
market in the Orient. 

This scheme vastly puzzled the commodore. “I’d like 
to get to the bottom of it. It’s my private opinion that 
he deserves a tar-and-feather party, but I haven’t any¬ 
thing to proceed on but strong suspicions. Every time 
I go to look in on Congress, blast me, if I don’t run afoul 
of Murad. He told me, the last time, that a naval 
committee desired to question him on trade conditions 
in the East. Time must hang heavy on the hands of 
our representatives—hobnobbing with such a fellow! 
They better spend their hours in finding a way to set our 
American lads free from Turkish chains. Can’t they see 
what Murad’s up to? I can give a guess that’ll turn 
out to be pretty near the truth. He’s spying on Congress 
for the rulers of Barbary! If I can only get proof of 
it, we’ll hang the Egyptian to the Sally's yardarm!” 

There came a turn of events that prevented the com¬ 
modore from making further inquiry into Murad’s affairs 


40 


41 


The Rose of Egypt 

—though it did not hinder him from spreading his 
opinions. The Administration chose the old sea-dog as a 
confidential messenger to bear certain important dis¬ 
patches to Commissioner Benjamin Franklin, in Paris. 
Off he went, promising to return within six months, and 
pledging me that when he came back he would have a 
serious interview with the rector that would result in 
my getting permission to go to sea. 

Meanwhile the rector had gone to Virginia to attend 
a conference of ministers. He came back aflame with a 
new purpose, and with lips set in a thin line that spoke 
determination. 

“These stout-hearted settlers who are flocking out to 
settle in Kentucky,” he said, “are sheep without 
shepherds! I have learned that there is a woeful lack 
of ministers in the new settlements. I have determined 
to spend a year there. My friend, Joshua Littleton, will 
occupy my place here until I return. He is a scholarly 
man. Your studies will not suffer under him.” 

I did not like Mr. Littleton. He was a little dried-up 
man, too much occupied with studies to pay attention to 
the welfare of his pupils. I had a feeling that he regarded 
me merely as a mechanical thing that must be made to 
utter words and rules. You may note Mr. Littleton’s 
industry by this advertisement that appeared frequently 
in a local journal: 

“There is a School in Baltimore, in Market Street, 
where Mr. Joshua Littleton, late of Yale Colledge, teaches 
Reading, Writing, Arithmatick, whole numbers and Frac¬ 
tions, Vulgar and Decimal, The Mariner’s Art, Plain and 
Mercator’s Way, also Geometry, Surveying, the Latin 
tongue, the Greek and Hebrew Grammars, Ethicks, Rhe- 
torick, Logick, Natural Philosophy, and Metaphysicks, 
all or any of them at a reasonable price.” 


42 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

After I had gleaned from him all he knew of the 
'‘Mariner’s Art” I was eager to escape. 

When the rector rode away on horseback to follow 
Daniel Boone’s trail, I began to spend along the wharves 
all the time I could find. Murad invited me to inspect 
The Rose of Egypt, and soon I was as much at home on 
board of her as were the sailors the Egyptian had 
shipped. 

Murad, in his endeavors to make me feel at ease, spun 
yarns about his career that were as fascinating as any 
tale Scheherazade told. One vividly described how he, 
having been driven from Alexandria through persecution, 
decided to earn his salt by assuming the character of a 
dervish—a role in which he had to pretend to be both 
a priest and a conjurer. He professed to be a devout 
Mohammedan, and practiced this holy profession of 
dervish by giving advice to the sick, and by selling, for 
considerable sums of money, small pieces of paper on 
which were written sentences in Turkish from the Koran, 
which he sanctified by applying them to his shaven and 
naked crown. 

At a place called Trebizond he was informed by the 
people that their ruler was dangerously sick and threat¬ 
ened with blindness. He was ordered by the ministers 
of the Bashaw to prescribe for him. Through files of 
armed soldiers he was conducted into the presence of the 
sick monarch. Calling upon the officers to kneel, he dis¬ 
played all the pomp and haughtiness that is expected of 
a dervish. After invoking the aid of Allah and Moham¬ 
med, he inquired under what disease the Bashaw labored. 
Finding that he was afflicted with a fever, accompanied 
by a violent inflammation of the eyes, Murad made bold 
to predict that he would recover both health and sight 


43 


The Rose of Egypt 

by the time of the next new moon. Searching in the 
pouch containing his medicines, he produced a white 
powder which he ordered to be blown into the ruler’s 
eyes, and directed that a wash of milk and water should 
then be used. He likewise recommended that the patient 
be sweated by the use of warm drinks and blankets. 

He was well rewarded with money and presents. 

The next day the caravan he was traveling with de¬ 
parted for Persia, and Murad, hoping to be nine or ten 
days’ journey from Trebizond by the time of the next 
new moon, so that he might be quite out of reach in case 
his remedy should harm instead of help the Bashaw, 
departed with it. 

The caravan was a large one and heavily loaded. A 
few days later it was overtaken by a lighter caravan, 
also from Trebizond. Murad, trembling in his shoes, 
heard two men of the newly arrived caravan talking to 
each other concerning the marvellous cure of the Bashaw. 
He learned that the court and citizens of Trebizond were 
singing his praises, and searching for him to heap rewards 
upon him. 

“I was tempted to return,” Murad concluded his yarn, 
“but I began to wonder what the restored Bashaw would 
say if some jealous physician should investigate my 
remedy and find that I had blown lime in the Bashaw’s 
eyes to eat the films of disease away!” 

Before the rector went away, Murad had been a weekly 
visitor to our home. He was a well-educated man, and 
Dr. Eccleston was glad to chat with one who could dis¬ 
cuss the affairs of the universe and delve back into 
classical times. The Egyptian had restless eyes. They 
roved over every book in the library. Several times it 


44 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

seemed to me that he was trying to lead the conversation 
back to the theme of the treasure tomb. He would ask 
the rector if he had heard that a certain statue had been 
unearthed in Greece, or if he knew that an expedition 
was on its way from London to Egypt to delve for traces 
of a race that flourished before the Egyptians. The 
rector’s eyes would light up, and he seemed to be on the 
point of answering, but always he checked himself and 
turned the topic. On one of these occasions his glance 
darted towards a locked bookcase that stood in the corner 
of the library. Murad’s glance followed his. 

When the rector went west Murad began to call on 
Mr. Littleton, who also received him in the library. His 
visits stopped suddenly. Then he announced his date of 
sailing. I kept putting two and two together, and one 
night, as I lay awake thinking about all these strange 
things, it suddenly flashed on me that the Egyptian had 
discovered the location of the rector’s diagram of the 
treasure chamber, and that one of the reasons for his 
sailing was to search for the treasure. I searched in 
the corner of the library towards which the rector had 
glanced while talking to Murad, and found that the lock 
to one of the bookcases had been forced. A leather- 
bound tome, “Travels in the Holy Land,” was missing. 

In an instant I decided to accept Murad’s often-urged 
invitation to sail with him. 

Murad now told me that, as a matter of form, I should 
have to apply to his mate, Mr. Bludsoe. He led me down 
the deck and whispered to the mate, who eyed me sharply. 
Then the mate spoke: 

“Can you steer?” 

“Ay sir,” I answered glibly, “I can reef and steer. I 


The Rose of Egypt 45 

can make a man-rope knot, crown a lanyard, tie a reef- 
knot, or toss a royal bunt! ,, 

“I fear,” he said dryly, “that you are too expert for 
our forecastle. The men will be jealous of you. How 
are you as a cook?” 

“I can make coffee and peel potatoes,” I said more 
humbly, “and I know how to fry potatoes, and bacon, 
roast beefsteak, and cook oatmeal.” 

“Get your things and come aboard,” he said, “such an 
all-around fellow is spoiling on shore.” 

I was by no means a greenhorn aboard a schooner. 
No boy could grow up in a seaport town without be¬ 
coming familiar with ships, and be sure that I was no 
exception. The wharf and river had been my play region 
since earliest childhood. There were a number of yawls 
and cutters which the boys of the town were allowed to 
use when their owners did not require them, and in these 
we held mimic warfare, playing at buccaneers, or pre¬ 
tending that we were Yankee sailors fighting off English 
press-gangs. Sometimes a kindly skipper would allow 
us to explore his vessel, and there was always an old 
sailor of deck or dock willing to show a lad how to tie 
a rope or haul in a sail. Thus I became familiar with 
sailing ships from stem to stern and from the main royal 
truck to the keel. 


§ 


CHAPTER V 


MY FIRST VOYAGE 

“Now, my brave boys, conibs the best of the fun. 

All hands to make sail, going large is the song. 

From under two reefs in our topsails we lie, 

Like a cloud in the air, in an instant must fly. 

There's topsails, topgallant sails, and staysails too. 

There is stu'nsails and sky sails, star gazers so high , 

By the sound of one pipe everything it must fly. 

Now, my brave boys, comes the best of the fun , 

About ship and reef topsails in one! 

All hands up aloft when the helm goes down , 

Lower way topsails when the manyards goes round. 

Chase up and lie out and take two reefs in one. 

In a moment of time all this work must be done. 

Man your headbraces, your halyards and all, 

And hoist away topsails when it's l let go and haul 

(Ditty sung in early days aboard Salem ships.) 

O NE night in May, Murad sent word to me that we 
were to sail at four o’clock the next morning. I 
went to bed as usual, but before the hall clock struck 
three I was out of my window with my luggage and on 
my way to the ship. When I went aboard I found that 
all of the confusion of spare rigging, rope, sails, hawsers, 
oakum and merchandise that I had noted on the deck 
the day before, had been cleared away. 

All of the crew were Baltimore men. Some of them 
were honest, goodhearted fellows. Others were ruffians. 
I recognized Steve Dunn and some of his gang among 

46 


My First Voyage 47 

the crew. Baltimore had evidently become too hot to 
hold such rascals. 

Samuel Childs, who had sailed under Commodore 
Barney, took me under his wing, although he swore that 
I should have been keelhauled for going to sea without 
asking the advice of the rector or the commodore. 

“But,” I protested, “they are both out of the city, and 
if they knew the reason I had for going, they would 
approve.” 

“I don’t like to see the skipper taking such an interest 
in you,” Samuel said with a shake of his head. “Mr. 
Bludsoe, the mate, is a fine man. You can trust him 
as you would a father. But these Orientals—I question 
their motives. True, Murad was a skipper in the Sul¬ 
tan’s navy, but he’s hiding something. He’s more than 
a mere captain. We older men can take care of ourselves, 
but you’ve had no experience with men. You’d better 
stick close to me aboard ship, and closer still when we 
land!” 

Samuel was our chantie man, and good service he did 
in stimulating us to work the windlass in hauling up the 
anchors—sometimes buried so deep in the mud at the 
sea’s bottom that it needed the liveliest sort of chantie to 
inspire our hearts and strengthen our sinews. The secret 
of the swift way in which we heaved up the anchor, 
cleared away lashings, pumped the ship, unreeved the 
running gear, and mastheaded the topsails lay in the fact 
that the chantie caused us to work in unison. No matter 
how tired we were, our spirits rose and the blood 
coursed as we worked to the chantie Samuel roared 
forth: 


48 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

“Way, haul away; 

Oh, haul away, my Rosey. 

Way, haul away; 

0 , haul away, Joe!” 

There being a fine breeze from the shore, we made 
sail at the wharf and headed out to sea. As the wind 
increased, all sail was made, topmast stun’sail booms 
were run out, stun’sails spread, anchors secured, and all 
movable things on deck were made fast. When we hove 
the log it was seen that we were doing better than ten 
knot, a rate of speed that made Murad well satisfied with 
his ship. 

We were mustered aft—watches were to be chosen. 
There were ten able seamen, three ordinary seamen, and 
one boy—myself. The men were divided between the 
port and starboard watches. Mr. Bludsoe, the chief 
officer, was in command of the port watch. Mr. French, 
the second officer, was in charge of the starboard watch. 
When we were not attending to the sails, we were kept 
busy scraping, painting, tarring and holy-stoning. 

At four bells—six o’clock—the port watch came on 
deck to relieve the starboard. The starboard watch then 
went below for supper, and were allowed to remain off 
duty until eight o’clock—eight bells. The port watch 
was then relieved by them, and its members were allowed 
till midnight for resting. Short “dog” watches were 
provided for so that the port and starboard watch had 
eight hours off instead of four hours’ duty every other 
night. 

When the watch was changed, the man at the wheel 
was relieved, the lookout man climbed to the topgallant 
forecastle to relieve the weary lookout who in loneliness 
had faced exposure to the weather for four hours, while 


My First Voyage 49 

the rest of the men smoked their pipes in as comfortable 
places as they could find, and swapped yarns. 

The cry that caused the most excitement aboard ship 
was '‘All hands shorten sail.” This meant “going aloft.” 
The order had no terrors for me, thanks to my early 
experiences on schooners in the Chesapeake Bay. 

It is not much of a job to go up the masts in calm 
weather. Indeed, on a calm moonlight night, a place 
on the crosstrees was my favorite spot. One seems to 
be then on the top of a mountain looking out on an 
enchanted land. But when the seas are heavy it is a 
different matter. The force of the gale that leads the 
mate to bawl his command to shorten sail pins you 
against the mast. The rain lashes you, and sometimes 
there is sleet to prick you like swords’ points. The man 
above you may kick you with his heel as he comes to 
grips with his task. The officers on deck and the boat¬ 
swain on the yardarm have their eyes fixed on you and 
the rest of the watch. The canvas must be mastered and 
every man must do his part. Overhead the spars and 
yards pitch and reel. The yard you stand on seems 
almost as unstable as the waves that leap up to engulf 
you. 

On the first day out, two of our men had a fist-fight 
due to trouble that arose between them while they were 
aloft. Wesley Burroughs had stopped in the shrouds 
as if he meant to go no farther. Giles Lake, who was 
behind him, thought to find favor with Bludsoe, the 
boatswain, and began to prick Wesley’s legs with his 
knife. 

The result, however, was not what he expected. 
Wesley continued his ascent, but when the task was done 
and the two had reached the deck, he went at Giles, 


SO Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

who was much larger, like a thunderbolt. Under the 
eyes of the boatswain, who seemed to think Lake de¬ 
served the punishment, he knocked his tormentor down, 
seized his own sheath knife, and returned prick for prick. 

An ordeal I feared was that of initiation by 
King Neptune. I was relieved when Samuel told me 
that Neptune's visit came only when a ship crossed the 
equator, and that The Rose of Egypt would not cross 
that imaginary line. He satisfied my curiosity by de¬ 
scribing his own experience. 

After breakfast on the morning the ship crossed the 
equator, he was ordered to prepare for shaving. The 
crew blindfolded him, led him on deck, and bound him 
in a chair. 

A voice said: 

“Neptune has just come over the bow to inquire if 
anyone here dares to cross his dominions without being 
properly initiated. Samuel Childs, prepare to be shaved 
by the King of the Seas, a ceremony that will make you 
a true child of the ocean!” 

His shirt had been stripped off his back. A speaking- 
trumpet was held to his ear, through which a voice 
thundered: 

“Are you, O landsman, prepared to become a true 
salt ?” 

“I am!” Samuel said boldly. 

“Apply the brush!” 

When the bandage was removed from the victim's 
eyes, someone stood before him dressed like Neptune, 
with gray hair and beard and long white robes. In his 
right hand he held a trident; in his left hand the speak¬ 
ing-trumpet. In a sailor’s hand was a paint brush that 


5i 


My First Voyage 

had been dipped in tar. With this thin tar Samuel was 
lathered, the tar being later removed with fat and oakum. 

Neptune then said: “You may now become an able 
seaman. You may rise to boatswain and to captain. If 
you are killed or drowned, you will be turned into a 
sea-horse, and will be my subject. You may now eat 
salt pork, mush, and weevilly bread. Do it without 
grumbling. I now depart!” 

Samuel was again blindfolded. When the bandage 
was removed, Neptune had disappeared. It was told 
Samuel that he had dashed over the bow into his sea- 
chariot. 

“I know better now,” Samuel explained to me. “Nep¬ 
tune was impersonated by Jim Thorn, our oldest sailor. 
His long beard was made of unraveled rope and yarn. 
He perched under the bow and climbed aboard by the 
chains.” 

My first turn at the wheel, with Samuel standing by, 
was a curious experience. Told to steer southwest, I 
found that I swung the wheel too far, and that the 
direction was south southwest. When I tried to swing 
back to southwest I went too far in the other direction, 
and was steering southwest by west. In a few hours, 
however, I had mastered the trick. I loved to steer. It 
enabled me to escape the dirty work of tarring, painting 
and cleaning. Yet I never took the helm without think¬ 
ing of how my father had been killed at the wheel of the 
Hyder Ally. 

Whistling aboard ship was a custom disliked by the 
old sailors. They entertained a superstition that he who 
whistled was “whistling for the wind.” On one of my 
first nights at sea, feeling lonesome, I puckered my lips 


52 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

and began to blow a tune. Along came Samuel. He 
paused beside my berth. 

“My boy,” said he, “there are only two kinds of people 
who whistle. One is a boatswain. The other is a fool. 
You are not a boatswain.” 

He passed on. I never whistled again aboard ship. 

When we were within the vicinity of the capes, there 
came a calm spell in which our schooner barely moved. 
While we were fretting at this snail’s pace, a frigate, 
enjoying a wind that had not come our way, overhauled 
us and hove to across our bows, displaying the British 
flag. 

“Have your protections ready, lads,” the mate said, 
squinting across the water, “that ship is looking for men 
to impress!” 

A boat put out from the frigate’s side and came to¬ 
wards us. 

“On board the cutter, there,” called our mate, “what 
do you want with us?” 

“On board the schooner,” came the reply, “we’re look¬ 
ing for deserters from the British navy. Let drop your 
ladder!” 

We obeyed. A spruce, slender, important, yet sur¬ 
prisingly youthful lieutenant came over the side. 

“Compliments of Captain Van Dyke, of His Majesty’s 
ship Elizabeth ” he said to the skipper and the mate, 
“we desire to inspect your crew.” 

“It’s a high-handed proceeding,” said Murad, his black 
eyes snapping, “but since we are only slightly armed, I 
suppose we must submit. My men are all American 
citizens. Each has proof of it.” He turned to the mate, 
“Mr. Bludsoe, have the men lined up.” 

The lieutenant passed down the line, scrutinizing the 


53 


My First Voyage 

protection papers and asking searching questions. I was 
the last one, and as my turn came, I began to turn cold 
with dread, for, fearing that I would be kept from ship¬ 
ping, I had neglected to get a protection paper. Putting 
on as bold a front as I could muster, I looked up at the 
lieutenant. He had friendly blue eyes—he was not at 
all like the dreadful impressment officer of my imagina¬ 
tion. 

“Please sir,” I said, “I shipped without taking the 
trouble to get a protection. I’m an American to the back¬ 
bone, though. I was born in Baltimore and my father 
was killed fighting the British during the war of Inde¬ 
pendence. He was on the Hyder Ally when she captured 
the English ship, the General Monk. I don’t want you 
to take me because I have a brother who is a prisoner 
in Algiers, and I expect to join the new American navy 
and go to fight for his release!” 

He laughed. “If we robbed you of a father, I think 
it’s due you to be allowed to go your own way. I should 
say that your brother requires your aid more than we 
do, so I’ll take your word for it that you’re a Yankee. 
Better not go to sea again without a protection paper. 
I happen to be a particularly tender-hearted officer.” 

He went down the side. 

Samuel Childs gave me a slap on the back that took 
my breath away. 

“Youngster,” he said, “that’s the first time I’ve seen a 
British officer pass by an American without papers. Blast 
them, if they would give their men better pay and stop 
flogging them through the fleet for offences hardly worth 
one lash, they wouldn’t have to be taking us to fill the 
places of their deserters!” 

It was a grand though often terrifying sight to see 


54 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

the ship in a storm flying beneath leaden clouds. With 
the main topsail and fore topmast staysail close reefed; 
with the masts tipping over as if they were going to 
plunge their tops into the sea; with spray showering 
upon us; with mountainous waves following us as if 
they would topple their full weight over our stern; it 
was a sight to make one both marvel and tremble. 

In such a storm we lost James Murray, an ordinary 
seamen, well-liked by all. 

We were in a heavy sea. The clouds were so low 
that they enveloped our mastheads. Tremendous waves 
beat against our bow, so that our plunging stem was 
like a knife cutting a way through them. All hands were 
called to shorten sail as the wind increased into a gale. 
The men who were light of weight went out along the 
yardarms, while the heavier men remained closer to 
the mast. The upper mizzen topsail was being furled 
when a sudden gust of wind blew the sail out of their 
grasp. 

Murray, who was one of the outermost men, was 
thrown off the yard into the sea. As the great waves 
tossed him up, we saw him struggling to swim, handi¬ 
capped as he was by his heavy oil-skins. A boat was 
cleared away and volunteers were called for to endeavor 
to rescue Murray. I stood forth with the rest of the 
crew—I saw no one hold back—but a crew of our strong¬ 
est men was chosen, and all we could do was to stand 
on a yard and watch the progress of the little boat. The 
seas poured into her. We could see two of her men 
baling desperately. At last we lost sight of her in the 
mists. An hour later, when we were worrying greatly 
over the fate not only of Murray, but also of the boat’s 
crew, the mist cleared and showed our location to the 


55 


My First Voyage 

men struggling out there in the furious ocean. They 
gradually made their way towards us and were pulled on 
deck exhausted. They said that they had caught one 
glimpse of Murray, but as they pulled desperately to 
reach him the mist had drifted between him and them— 
a mist that was to him as a shroud. 


CHAPTER VI 


MUTINY 

“*Twas on a Black Bailer I first served my time, 

Yo ho, blow the man down! 

And on that Black Bailer I wasted my prime, 

Oh, give me some time to blow the man down!” 

1\>TURAD had been forced to ship some of the tough- 
* * est rascals in Baltimore in order to complete his 
crew. They were men who had gotten into trouble 
through acts of violence ashore, and were forced to take 
to sea. They, too, had heard rumors that Murad was a 
spy in the employ of the Barbary powers, but it did not 
seem to bother them. I am of the opinion that they 
meant to seize the vessel before it had sailed out of sight 
of the Atlantic coast. 

If such was their plan, Mr. Bludsoe, the mate, was 
their chief obstacle. He was a fearless, muscular man, 
and a belaying-pin in his hand was a deadly weapon. 
Even in a plain fist fight he was equal to two of them. 
He was not overfond of the Egyptian, yet he was the 
sort of person who stuck to a task once he had entered 
on it. 

He suspected Steve Dunn and his crowd of an inten¬ 
tion to murder the officers and seize the ship, and told 
the skipper of his suspicions. Murad gave orders that 
we should be mustered before him. We were under the 
guns of an American frigate when the orders were issued, 
and the crew obeyed promptly. 

56 


Mutiny 57 

“You men have far more weapons on your persons 
than is necessary,” the Egyptian said smoothly. “In the 
interest of good fellowship, and to keep you from slash¬ 
ing and shooting at each other, I desire you to leave your 
knives and pistols in my care. Mr. Bludsoe, you will 
search the men’s berths and bags and bring to me for 
safe-keeping any weapons you find!” 

I saw sullen glances exchanged by Steve Dunn, Mul¬ 
ligan and other members of the crew. 

“We ain’t none of us planning any trouble among 
ourselves!” said Steve. “We don’t know when this here 
vessel is going to be boarded by pirates and we want our 
weapons handy!” 

“Handy they shall be!” said Murad, still smiling. “It 
would be too bad to start ill-feeling between you and me 
by your disobeying this, my first request. It would bode 
ill for our voyage. I was once an admiral in the Sultan’s 
navy. I know how to make men obey orders. I should 
hate to have to ask the captain of yonder frigate to send 
a crew aboard to help me make my crew obey. Throw 
down your knives. You have them sharpened to a point 
that makes an honest man shiver. My good fellows, 
show me what a good crew I have by obeying me—at 
once!” 

His voice rang on the last two words. The men 
dropped their dirks on the deck. There was a motion 
of Steve’s hand towards the inside of his shirt as the 
skipper stooped to pick up one of the knives, but Murad 
seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. 

“Look, Mr. Bludsoe,” he said, straightening himself 
swiftly, “Steve Dunn has a second knife that he wants 
to give up!” 

He pulled a pistol from his pocket. “Give us the hid- 


58 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

den knives too, men! This pistol might go off if I am 
kept waiting too long!” 

Mr. Bludsoe had returned with an armful of weapons. 
He deposited them at the skipper’s back and went down 
the line, feeling for dirks. He found two. Ending his 
search, he ordered the men to go forward. 

In spite of these precautions, the men continued to 
grow rebellious. The man who relieved Samuel Childs at 
the wheel disobeyed orders. When Mr. Bludsoe scolded 
him he gave impudence. 

After a scuffle, in which several of the loyal members 
of the crew, including Samuel Childs and myself, went 
to Mr. Bludsoe’s assistance, this man, Bryan by name, 
was put in irons. 

“Holystone the decks!” the next order given after 
this episode, brought no response from seven members 
of the crew. They outnumbered the officers and the 
loyal sailors. If we had not taken possession of their 
arms, we should have been in a bad way. The men 
came forward towards the Egyptian. 

“Release Bryan if you want us to work!” Steve called. 

“I am the master of this ship!” said Murad calmly, 
“Bryan is in irons for disobedience. Others of the crew 
who refuse to obey orders will be treated as mutineers. 
You know the punishment for that! Holystone the 
decks!” 

They folded their arms and stood glowering at the 
skipper. 

“I shall starve them into submission!” Murad said to 
the mate. 

Two days passed. The men stayed forward. The 
officers made no attempt to give them orders. For¬ 
tunately, the weather remained calm, and the few of us 


Mutiny 59 

who were loyal were sufficient to handle the sails. If a 
tempest came, we would be in a serious situation. 

“They will attack like starved wolves tonight!” said 
Mr. Bludsoe to Burke, Ross and myself, “I shall give 
each of you a pistol. Your own lives are at stake. Shoot 
any man of them who comes aft.” 

The first man who came aft, however, we did not 
shoot. 

I was the first to catch sight of his figure stealing 
away from the forecastle. I fear that my voice trembled 
when I cried: 

“Halt! Throw up your hands!” 

“It’s Reynolds,” he said, “Take me to the skipper. I 
want to throw myself on his mercy. Intercede for me, 
lad. I’ve had my fill of that gang yonder!” 

The captain and mate had joined me. “It’s the first 
break in their ranks,” he said, “and I’ll take advantage 
of the chance to show them that they can still surrender 
without being strung up.” 

He turned to me. 

“Give Reynolds biscuits and coffee! He will take the 
wheel after that, and if he fails us there we’ll-” 

He whirled his hand around his neck and then pointed 
to a yardarm in a way that emphasized his meaning far 
more than words could have done. 

The surrender of Reynolds led us to hope that others 
were on the verge of yielding. We questioned Reynolds 
as he ate ravenously the food we brought him. He was 
whole-heartedly aiding us now, because he knew that if 
the mutineers triumphed it would go hard with him. 

He said that if we could show the men that we were 
powerful enough to conquer Steve Dunn and Mulligan, 



60 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

the ringleaders, the others would be glad to go back to 
work. 

“It’s those two who ’re to blame for us not yielding 
sooner,” he explained. “We had planned twelve hours 
ago to come out and throw ourselves on the skipper’s 
mercy, but Mulligan knocked me down when I suggested 
it. He thought that he had me cowed, and that I would 
be afraid to make any further attempt. He stationed 
me as a guard at the forecastle scuttle tonight, while 
he planned with the others just how they would attack 
you. If they could get rid of the skipper and the mate, 
they thought it would be easy to bring the others over 
to their side. I expect they’ll be crawling out very soon 
to make the attempt.” 

“Captain,” said Mr. Bludsoe, “I think I can end this. 
There are lads in that forecastle whom I don’t want to 
see hung for mutiny. They resent our trying to starve 
them into submission, and I’m afraid the longer they 
go without food, the more desperate they’ll become. May 
I promise them that if they come forth peacefully and 
go to work you will take no steps to enforce the laws 
against them?” 

Murad had been plainly worried by the rebellion. We 
were out of the track of American frigates, and we still 
had a long voyage before us. If a storm came, the few 
loyal men would find themselves overtaxed in managing 
the vessel, and while they were endeavoring to save the 
ship, the mutineers would have an opportunity to do 
murder. 

I could not help wondering, too, whether the Egyptian 
was not fearful as to the effect the mutiny would have 
on his treasure hunt, for the more I studied him, the 
deeper became my conviction that he had secured pos- 


Mutiny 61 

session of the rector’s secret, and, under the pretext of 
going on a trading voyage, was off on a solitary treasure 
quest. One of my duties was to keep the cabin clean 
and tidy, and when opportunity offered I had poked in 
chests and cubby-holes to see if I could find the rector’s 
map of the treasure country. My hurried searches had 
failed thus far. 

Thoughts kindred to mine must have been running 
through Murad’s mind, for he consented to Mr. Blud- 
soe’s proposal. 

“But I warn you against entering the forecastle!” he 
said, “Better talk to them at a distance. Keep them 
well covered with your pistols. They’ve found weapons !” 

The mate went forward. I had conceived a strong 
admiration for him, and, on an impulse I followed his 
shadowy figure as it crept along the starboard side, past 
the galley, towards the forecastle hatchway. Ross and 
Burke, not to be outdone, strung along behind us. 

Mr. Bludsoe had reached the forecastle hatch without 
meeting a person. I expected to hear him yell his mes¬ 
sage down the hatchway, which was open, but instead 
I saw his black figure leap into the yellow glare that 
came up from the forecastle lantern. He had leaped down 
into the room. 

I crept up to the scuttle, and leaned down the hatch¬ 
way, cutlass in hand. I was determined to fight in the 
mate’s defence if necessary, though I knew that my cut¬ 
lass, with only a youth’s arm behind it, was a poor weapon 
against desperate men, even if they were only armed with 
dirks. 

The men had been standing in the center of the fore¬ 
castle, and seemed to have been on the verge of rushing 
forth to attack us. Reynold’s desertion had not been 


62 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

noted by them, and they had evidently thought that the 
person leaping into the room was their sentinel. The 
mate’s spring, therefore, took them by surprise. They 
glanced uncertainly up the ladder, saw the flash of my 
cutlass, and thought that our entire force was back of 
Mr. Bludsoe. It was a reasonable conclusion, for who 
would have dreamed that the mate would have done so 
bold a thing. 

Knives flashed. “Here’s one of them,” Steve cried, 
“thought he’d starved the strength out of us, I reckon. 
We’ll show him!” 

Bludsoe put his back against the ladder and leveled 
his pistols at the most menacing mutineers. 

“Men,” he said, “I can kill four of you before you 
down me. There are others waiting to take care of the 
rest. Listen—I haven’t come down here to shoot—I’m 
trying to end this row and save you from the gallows. 
Some of you have never been in trouble before. Some 
of you are married men. It’s no use trying to budge the 
skipper. You won’t get a bite to eat until you start to 
work. If you hold out another twelve hours the chances 
are some frigate will see our signals and take you to 
where you’ll get short shrift. Come now, throw down 
your knives and-” 

A heavy boot, viciously aimed, knocked me aside. Its 
owner jumped across my body and leapt towards the 
scuttle. 

I saw the huge bulk of Mulligan pass me. He had 
been out to reconnoiter and we had passed him in the 
darkness. 

“Look out! Mulligan’s behind you!” I cried. 

A shot was fired. 

I crept in despair towards the hatchway. I was unable 



Mutiny 63 

to interpret from the sounds and curses that issued from 
the forecastle what had happened, and feared that I 
should see Mr. Bludsoe trampled upon by those he had 
tried to rescue from their own folly. Yet, as I raised 
my head to peer down, I heard his voice ring out: 

“There’s no need for anyone else to pay the price 
Mulligan has paid. Down with your weapons!” 

Dirks and pistols clattered to the deck. Some of the 
points of the knives stuck into the timber. I looked at 
these shivering blades and thanked Providence that they 
had found lodging there instead of in the mate’s breast. 

Out they came, sullen but subdued. Mr. Bludsoe drove 
them aft with his pistol points. 

“Thank you, lad,” he said, as he passed me,“ I owe 
my life to you!” 

I peered down into the forecastle. Under the smoky 
lamp lay Mulligan—a huge, motionless mass. Blood 
flowed from his temple. 

The wind had died; the sun was hidden in haze; the 
sky darkened; the barometer fell. “We’ll be in the midst 
of a tempest soon,” Samuel Childs whispered to me, “if 
the rebels had held out they might have had the ship at 
their mercy.” 

“Call all hands to shorten sail,” the skipper said calmly 
to Mr. Bludsoe. 

The ship was made snug; the sails were furled; the 
Spars, water casks, and boats were lashed; the hatches 
>vere battened down. 

Seeing that the men were thoroughly cowed, the skip¬ 
per passed the word to the cook to serve them with 
breakfast. From the galley came the sound of pots and 
pans. The peace meal was ready. 


CHAPTER VII 


BETRAYED 

I T grew warmer as we approached Gibraltar. Flying 
fish arose from the water and shot over the sur¬ 
face like silver arrows. Porpoises frolicked around us. 
Flocks of sea-gulls followed us as we passed the southern 
coast of Europe. Through the Azores we sailed until 
we came in sight of the red cliffs of St. Vincent, on the 
Portugal coast. Then we entered the Straits of Gibraltar 
and caught our first sight of the mountainous African 
coast. 

I had better note here that three continents form the 
shores of the Mediterranean Sea—Europe, Asia and 
Africa. The entrance to this sea from the Atlantic is 
guarded by the Pillars of Hercules, formed by Gibraltar 
on the European shore and “the Mount of God” on the 
African side. These pillars, it interested me to dis¬ 
cover, were thought by the ancients to have been left 
standing by Hercules as monuments to his might when 
he tore asunder the continents. It will be remembered 
that along the sea these monuments of nature guarded, 
civilization had been cradled. Art, architecture, law, 
poetry, drama, and religion had come into being on these 
coasts. The treasure tomb that now nightly filled my 
dreams had doubtless been laid in these early days. 

And now, as the events of my story have so much to 
do with this North African shore, let us have a clear 
understanding of its cities and people. The coast is 

64 


Betrayed 65 

called Barbary, because the race that inhabits it are named 
Berbers. They belong to the same stock as the Anglo- 
Saxons and many of them have fair complexions, rosy 
cheeks and light hair. They are fanatical Mohammedans, 
and despise us because we are Christians. The Moors 
and Arabs, who are descended from the Mussulman 
warriors who captured Africa centuries ago, abound here 
too, and are the people with whom our quarrel lies. 

Barbary is sometimes called Little Africa. It extends 
from Egypt to the Atlantic Ocean and from the Mediter¬ 
ranean Sea back to the Sahara desert. Just over the 
way from Gibraltar lies Morocco. It is a little city with 
white walls surrounded by great hills. Most of the cities 
of Barbary are similarly situated between mountains and 
water. 

Next to the province of Morocco, lies Algeria, and 
farther on is Tripoli, the farthest boundary of which 
adjoins Egypt. 

Algeria, I learned, is five times as large as Pennsyl¬ 
vania. Algiers, one of the largest cities on the coast, is 
its capital. Walls of stone have been built across the 
harbor as fortifications. Algiers resembles an amphi¬ 
theatre. Its streets rise on terraces. The streets are 
narrow; bazaars are everywhere. These are roofed over 
with matting and lined with booths in which all sorts 
of goods are sold. The booths are nothing more or less 
than holes in the walls in which the dealer sits, while 
the customers stand out in the street and buy. One 
bazaar is given over to the shoemakers; another bazaar 
is devoted to jewelry; still another is set apart for the 
sale of perfumery. Tailors, saddlers, rug sellers—each 
trade has a separate bazaar. Here are shops selling 
carpets and rugs, and there is a cafe in which Turkish 


66 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

coffee, as sweet as molasses, may be sipped. Yonder is 
the stand of an Arab selling sweetmeats; beyond him a 
man in a long gown fries meat and sells it hot from the 
fire. 

There are solid-looking public buildings, and a great 
mosque that covers several acres. A turbaned priest from 
the minaret which rises far above the roofs of the shops 
and homes calls out the hour of prayer, and the Moham¬ 
medans kneel. 

A picturesque crowd pours through the dark, narrow 
streets. Arabs in long gowns; brown Arabs from the 
desert; Berbers from their country villages; Jewish girls 
in plain long robes of bright colors—pink, red, green, 
and yellow; Moorish women in veils; Berber girls with 
their rosy faces exposed; boys with shaved heads, wearing 
gowns and skull caps; holy men and beggars innumerable. 
Some of these veiled Mohammedan wives are only thir¬ 
teen years old. 

We anchored off Sale, a harbor of Morocco. I heard 
our skipper tell the mate that he proposed to go ashore 
and inquire into the chances of disposing of part of our 
cargo to advantage. 

No sooner had he left the ship than I, whose task it 
was to keep Murad’s quarters tidy, began to make a 
thorough search of his belongings. I was seeking that 
which only my suspicions told me existed—the map show¬ 
ing the location of the treasure. 

There was a sea chest in the cabin which Murad kept 
locked. In another room of the ship, however, I had 
found a similar chest. The key to this one I had taken, 
hoping that it would open the Egyptian’s strong-box. In 
this experiment I was fortunate—the key turned in the 
lock as if it were made to fit it, and the lid was loosened. 


Betrayed 67 

I found in the top of the chest the volume that had 
been stolen from the rector’s library. The trail was hot. 
There was, however, no map between its pages. Deeper 
into the chest I plunged. At the bottom I pried up a 
false bottom and found a paper. It seemed to be a copy 
instead of an original. I concluded that if this was the 
diagram of the treasure site, Murad had taken ashore 
the original, and had left this one aboard in case he lost 
the first one. 

The map was simple enough. It showed a section of 
the southern coast of the Mediterranean. The towns 
Tripoli and Derne were indicated. Between them was a 
village lettered Tokra. In the neighborhood of this spot 
were queer markings, which were explained by writing 
at the bottom of the map. When I tried to decipher this 
I found that it was in Arabic. The original was doubtless 
in English. Murad, in copying, had doubtless changed 
the English to Arabic to keep the secret from prying eyes. 

Towards midnight—while I was on watch—I heard a 
noise on the water from the direction of shore. It 
sounded like rowing, and yet it was too indistinct a sound 
for me to make certain. I decided that Murad had given 
up his idea of spending the night ashore and was return¬ 
ing. However, I asked Mr. Bludsoe to listen. 

“Oars!” he said, his ear cocked over the landward 
side. 

He listened again. “There are three boats at least!” 
he whispered, “it looks like an attack. Pass the word 
for all hands!” 

By this time both watches were on deck. Pistols and 
cutlasses were passed out. We lined up along the bul¬ 
warks, peering out. 

The mate stood near me. I heard him thinking aloud. 


68 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

“So this is the way our precious skipper protects us from 
corsairs ?” he muttered, “He goes ashore and an attack 
follows. Looks queer. Wonder what slaves are worth 
in Morocco ? Maybe lie’s planning to sell a double cargo 
-—goods and men!” 

We could hear the sounds plainly now. The splash of 
the oars struck with a chill more than one of us, but 
we gripped our weapons and made up our minds to sell 
our lives dearly. 

Mr. Bludsoe had been sweeping the sea with a night 
glass. “They are near us, men—four boats, swarming 
with cutthroats!” 

He peered over the rail and shouted: 

“On board the boats! This is an American schooner 
with whom you have no business. Come nearer at your 
peril !” 

Still the boats came on. The steady beat of the oars 
tightened our nerves almost to the snapping point. 

The mate shouted a second warning. It was not 
heeded. “It’s either their lives or ours,” he said to us, 
“Pick out your marks. Fire!” 

Our cannon belched forth flame. Shrieks and curses 
took the place of the splash of oars. We saw two boat¬ 
loads of men pouring into the water, snatching at the 
remnants of their cutters. On board the remaining two 
boats was havoc and confusion. We saw these boats at 
last turn stern and make for the shore. 

One of the boats managed to escape our fire and came 
up against the schooner on the farther side. This boat 
was not in the group we had first sighted, and in the 
excitement of the battle, it stole up on us without dis¬ 
covery. I chanced to turn in its direction just in time 
to see a dark head appear above the bulwarks. I caught 


Betrayed 69 

up a cutlass and ran with a cry to cleave the fellow's 
head. He ducked, and my blade cut into the rail. The 
mate, with more presence of mind, had caught up a heavy 
shot from beside the Long Tom and called upon others 
to follow his example. Down into the boat they dropped 
the balls, smashing heads and smashing boat. Before her 
crew could get a foothold on our chains, she filled with 
water and sank. In this fashion we met and overcame 
our greatest danger. 

“Lower away a boat!” said Mr. Bludsoe, “we can’t 
let those wretches out there drown without making some 
attempt at rescue!” 

We rowed out and brought in three men and a 
lad. 

Mr. Bludsoe questioned them by the light of a lantern. 
We gathered around in a circle. The boy could talk 
Spanish, which the mate also could speak. They were 
dark, half-naked creatures, with something of the ap¬ 
pearance of sleek rats as the water dripped from their 
glossy, matted hair. 

Two of the Moslems were sullen and made no re¬ 
sponses to the mate’s query. One, however, was ex¬ 
plosive. His rage was directed not against us, but against 
some one of his own party. 

“Who is responsible for this attack? Answer truly, 
unless you want to swing from yonder yardarm!” Mr. 
Bludsoe threatened. 

The fiery individual, with frantic gestures, poured a 
response intended for our mate into the lad’s ears. 

“The captain of your ship betrayed you,” said the inter¬ 
preter with rolling eyes and flashing teeth. “He betrayed 
us too. He said that it would be easy for us to capture 
you because he had assured you that you were free from 


70 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

attack. He led us to believe that the guns had been spiked 
and the weapons thrown overboard.” 

Mr. Bludsoe turned to the crew. “Murad made such 
an attempt. I found him fooling with the cannon and 
scared him off. I suspected him after that, and gave him 
no chance. He’s sold us in advance to the pirates of 
Morocco. They’ll be putting out in pursuit of us as soon 
as they learn of the failure!” 

He had scarcely spoken when two lateen sails could be 
seen moving out from shore. We were becalmed, and 
capture seemed certain. 

“We can’t beat off their warships! Man the long¬ 
boat!” Mr. Bludsoe ordered, “We’ll have to trust to 
yonder mist to hide us. We ought to be able to reach 
the Spanish coast if it holds!” 

The moon had been clouded by a fog. We could feel 
the haze settling upon us. The change seemed to precede 
a storm. 

With the war-ships nearly upon us, we rowed off into 
the haze, taking the prisoners with us. 

When we were a league from the shore, we heard a 
gun fired. I thought that the corsairs, who by this time 
had doubtless found that we had deserted the ship, were 
cruising in search of us and had fired the gun in our 
direction. No balls struck the water near us, however, 
and we rowed on desperately. 

Mr. Bludsoe questioned Mustapha. “It is the hur¬ 
ricane signal on shore,” the youth explained. “It means 
that the barometer has fallen tremendously, and that a 
storm’s on the way. You need have no fear of pursuit. 
The ships that came out to attack you will seek shelter 
now. We shall all sink if you do not make for the 
beach!” 


Betrayed 71 

Mr. Bludsoe ordered us to row towards the Moroccan 
shore, in a direction that would take us clear of the 
harbor. Heavy gusts of wind beat down upon us and 
floods of rain poured over our straining muscles. The 
wind became a gale and threatened to come with greater 
intensity. Furious waves leaped up on every side to 
swallow our boat. We gave up hope of reaching the 
shore, and rowed on expecting every uncertain stroke of 
our oars to be the last. 

Suddenly Mr. Bludsoe’s voice rang out calm and strong 
through the tempest. “There’s a ship ahead. It must be 
one of those that came out to attack us. Yet it’s better 
to take our chances aboard her than to stay in this sea. 
Pull towards her!” 

The ship loomed up larger than we had expected. Her 
sails were cut differently from those of the corsairs. 
Against the gray of the storm we caught sight of the 
American flag. 

“By all that’s holy,” the mate cried, “she’s a Yankee 
frigate!” 

The frigate, whose commander was shifting her to the 
shelter of the harbor, caught sight of us as we plunged 
towards her bow. Willing hands dipped down to help 
us climb over her side. 

The frigate’s name was George Washington. Her com¬ 
mander, Captain William Bainbridge, was bearing to the 
Dey of Algiers certain presents. With great joy I learned 
that peace had been made between Algiers and the United 
States, and that Alexander and his comrades were on 
their way home. Of these things I shall have more to 
tell later. We were not yet out of danger. The hur¬ 
ricane now seemed to be concentrated over us. The 
wind’s force must have been over a hundred miles an 


72 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

hour. The tremendous gusts struck the heavy vessel 
with the force of battering rams and drove her forward 
as if she were a cockle-shell. We could see the shore 
looming up. 

“Rocks!” someone shouted. We were within a hun¬ 
dred yards of them when a miracle happened. The wind 
shifted its fury. It now blew in a twisting fashion from 
the shore. Our ship turned with it. On another side 
of the harbor there was a beach of yielding sand. Beat¬ 
ing behind us with the same terrific force, the hurricane 
sent the nose of the frigate into the sand in a way that 
held her more firmly than a hundred anchors. 

Here we stayed without listing. The first part of the 
cyclone lasted about two hours. There was a lull and 
we thought the storm was over. It returned an hour 
later, however, in all of its fury, and we expected every 
moment to be torn from our haven and hurled across the 
harbor to destruction—a fate that we could now see had 
overtaken many vessels, for the shore was lined with 
wrecks. Whistling, roaring, devastating, it whirled over 
us, lashing the waves until they dashed with savage force 
over our decks. Our only comfort was that the on¬ 
slaughts gradually decreased in strength, and we saw the 
barometer rise rapidly from its lowest point. 

On shore, storehouses, castles, and residences were un¬ 
roofed or demolished entirely. 

Spars, masts, and parts of wharves floated on top of 
the waves. I shuddered as my eyes rested on a dead 
body floating amidst a mass of wreckage. It seemed 
providential that we were not floating corpses. 

A wreck lay near us. She had overturned and the 
water was washing across her deck. She had a familiar 


Betrayed 73 

look. Her stern was towards us. I caught a glimpse 
of her name and read The Rose of Egypt. 

Murad had played upon a youth’s imagination to lead 
him into a trap. The rascal’s gift at story-telling had 
been drawn upon to add me to those he hoped to lead 
into captivity that he might obtain ransoms. He also, 
no doubt, had it in his mind to revenge himself on the 
commodore by persecuting one of whom the sailor was 
fond. As my knowledge of Barbary grew, I saw that 
it was quite possible for Murad to act as a spy for one 
or all of these Barbary rulers. America was a new coun¬ 
try. The corsair princes desired information as to how 
rich she was; what they had to fear from her navy, etc. 
It came out later that secret discussions in Congress upon 
the subject of the Barbary powers were promptly re¬ 
ported to the Dey of Algiers, so that when our envoys 
came to negotiate with him he threw their secrets into 
their faces. But, be that as it may, adventures were 
crowding upon me so swiftly that I felt disposed to for¬ 
give Murad for the sake of the thrills he had sent my 
way. 


CHAPTER VIII 


AN AMERICAN FRIGATE BECOMES 
A CORSAIR’S CATTLESHIP 

W HEN I felt the deck of the George Washington 
beneath my feet, I felt a different thrill than that 
which had run through me when I stepped aboard The 
Rose of Egypt. I was a navy lad now, and my own 
quest for treasure, that had absorbed all of my attentions, 
dwindled before the fact that it was now my duty to 
consider the interests of my country more than my own 
selfish aims. 

Moreover I was to meet men, and find adventures, that 
made my treasure hunt for the time being a secondary 
interest. I intended before I quitted the Barbary coast 
to make the search; meanwhile I was content to take 
what experiences navy life brought me, awaiting my 
opportunity to enter the desert in search of the riches. 
The Egyptian, I had reason to believe, had been killed 
in the hurricane. The secret of the treasure was safe 
with me. Time would unfold my opportunity. 

As for those who are following this chronicle, let us 
hope that the thrilling naval activities these pages will 
now mirror will be more absorbing even than the per¬ 
sonal experiences I have told about; yet if any wonder 
as to the result of my quest for treasure, let me encourage 
them by saying that it was the historic events I am now 
about to relate that placed me at last in a position to 


74 


An American Frigate 75 

reach the spot where the jewels and trinkets described by 
the rector were buried. 

My good friend Samuel Childs found an old comrade 
on board the George Washington —one Reuben James. 
The two had been shipmates in the merchant service. 
Reuben, though now scarcely more than a boy, was a 
veteran sailor. He had gone to sea at the age of thirteen, 
had sailed around the world, and had every sort of 
experience that comes to a seaman. All of us became 
members of the frigate’s crew, and Samuel and I were 
chosen for Reuben’s watch, so that the three of us had 
many a chance to talk things over. 

From Reuben I drew forth an account of the release 
of Alexander and the other American captives. It was 
not until Samuel told him that I was a brother to one 
of the captives that he displayed interest in me; after he 
had discovered this fact, however, he went out of his 
way to be kind to me. 

ALEXANDER FREE 

“Well do I remember Alexander Forsyth,” Reuben 
said, “and I’ll swear that when I met him at Marseilles, 
where he was awaiting a passage home after his release 
from bloody Algiers, he was the nearest thing to a dead 
man that I have ever seen alive! He looked like a 
skeleton with a beating heart! Mark my word, he’ll 
never go to sea again! What can you expect—after years 
of cruelty, starvation, sickness, chain-dragging!” 

“You see,” Reuben said in excuse for our statesmen, 
“our Congressmen had other important things to worry 
about: Indian uprisings, trouble at sea with England and 
France; a union to form between the bickering common¬ 
wealths, finances to raise for running the government, 


76 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

and what not? A few sailors imprisoned in an out-of- 
the-way part of the world were apt to be forgotten!” 

The fresh captures by the pirates that brought about 
the settlement had, I was informed, happened in this 
manner: 

When the Portuguese warships withdrew from guard¬ 
ing the Straits of Gibraltar, the Algerine cruisers entered 
the Atlantic in four ships and swooped down on unsus¬ 
pecting American vessels. Eleven of our ships were 
captured by corsairs. Their crews were taken as slaves 
to Algiers, and, added to those already held in captivity, 
increased the number to one hundred and fifteen. 

The Swedish consul warned Colonel Humphreys, our 
minister to Portugal, that Bassara, a Jew slave-broker 
at Algiers, through whom the United States was trying 
to procure the release of the captives, was out of favor 
with the Dey, and that to succeed the business should 
be transferred to the Jew Bacri. This was done, and 
an agreement soon followed. 

Captain O’Brien was sent to Lisbon to get from Colonel 
Humphreys the money the United States promised to 
pay. Humphreys was forced to send O’Brien to London 
to borrow the funds, but, on account of the unsettled 
condition of European politics, O’Brien failed in his 
mission. The Dey, vexed at the delay, threatened to 
abandon the treaty. Upon this a frigate was offered by 
the American envoys as an inducement to hold to the 
treaty, while Bacri himself advanced the necessary gold. 
The prisoners were then released and sent in Bacri’s ship 
Fortune to Marseilles, where the American consul, 
Stephen Cathalan, Jr., secured a passage home for them 
in the Swedish ship Jupiter. 

What I had learned of the insolence of the Barbary 


An American Frigate 77 

rulers had come to me thus far only by hearsay. I was 
now to see an example of it with my own eyes. 

While I was thus gathering the details of Alexander's 
tardy release, the George Washington was proceeding 
from Morocco to Algiers, Captain Bainbridge having been 
ordered by our government to deliver presents to the 
Algerine prince. Before leaving Morocco, Captain 
Bainbridge, who had heard the story of the assault upon 
us with amazement and anger, demanded of the Dey of 
Morocco that he surrender to him the Egyptian, Murad, 
for the action of our government. 

Word came back that a search had been made for 
Murad but that no person such as we described could 
be found in the city. Punishment for those who had 
attacked us was also requested, but the oily monarch 
protested that his officers could find no citizens who had 
attempted such a raid. Baffled, we went on our way. 

I looked over the rail towards the frowning castles of 
Algiers in huge disgust. Yet I was curious to see the 
town in which Alexander had been enslaved, and Captain 
Bainbridge, knowing of my relationship to one of the 
released Americans, provided a way that I might enter 
the palace as one of his attendants when he went with 
Consul O’Brien to pay his supposed respects to the Dey. 

By listening to the English renegade who acted as 
interpreter between our officers and the ruler, I gathered 
that the Dey was in trouble with his overlord, the Sultan 
of Turkey, because he had made peace with France while 
Turkey, then allied with England, was making war on 
the French forces in Egypt. 

To appease the wrath of the Sultan, the Dey had 
decided to send to that monarch at Constantinople an 
ambassador bearing valuable gifts. With amazing cheek, 


78 Pirate Princes and Yankee jacks 

he now asked Consul O’Brien to lend him the frigate 
George Washington for the purpose of bearing the envoy 
and his train. Captain Bainbridge blushed. “It is im¬ 
possible for an American naval officer to carry out such 
a mission,” I heard him cry. 

“Your ship is anchored under my batteries. My gun¬ 
ner will sink her if you refuse!” the Dey said with a 
scowl. 

“That is no work for an American ship,” Captain 
Bainbridge said. 

“Aren’t Americans my slaves ? Don’t they pay tribute 
to me?” the Dey demanded. “I now command you to 
carry my embassy!” 

I felt like rushing forward and choking the creature, 
and I saw from Captain Bainbridge’s look that it was 
all that he could do to restrain himself from drawing his 
sword and plunging it into the fat stomach of the beast. 

Consul O’Brien came forth with soothing words. He 
advised Bainbridge to obey the ruler, and Bainbridge, 
because of the superior authority of the consul, was 
forced to consent. 

“Shade of Washington!” he exclaimed, when he re¬ 
turned aboard ship, “behold thy sword hung on a slave 
to serve a pirate! I never thought to find a corner of 
this world where an American would stoop to baseness. 
History shall tell how the United States first volunteered 
a ship of war, equipped, as a carrier for a pirate. It is 
written. Nothing but blood can blot the impression out.” 

We heard that he wrote thus to the Navy Department: 

“I hope I may never again be sent to Algiers with 
tribute, unless I be authorized to deliver it from the mouth 
of the cannon.” 


An American Frigate 79 


THE VOYAGE TO CONSTANTINOPLE 

When the ambassador to Constantinople came on 
board, his suite and following were enough to make 
angels laugh. There were one hundred Moslems attend¬ 
ing him. Many of the officers brought their wives and 
children. In addition there were four horses, twenty-five 
horned cattle, four lions, four tigers, four antelopes, and 
twelve parrots. The money and regalia loaded as presents 
for the Sultan were valued at a million dollars. 

When our frigate reached the two forts that com¬ 
manded the entrance to Constantinople, Captain Bain- 
bridge decided that he would save the time that would 
be spent in entering the port in the usual formal way. 
We approached the anchorage as if we meant to come 
to a stop. We clewed up our courses, let go the topsails, 
and seemed to be complying with the rules of the port. 
Then our commander ordered that a salute be fired, but, 
when the guns of the fort replied, he ordered sail to be 
made under cover of the smoke. By this trick, we passed 
by the guns under the smoke screen, and were inside the 
harbor and beyond range before the Turks realized it. 

An officer rowed out to ask to what country our ship 
belonged. 

“The United States,” answered our commander. 

The officer returned to shore. A half-hour later he 
again rowed out to inform Captain Bainbridge that the 
Sultan had never heard of the United States, and desired 
to know more about it. Our captain replied that he 
came from the new world discovered by Columbus. Again 
the officer went ashore and returned, bringing this time 
a lamb and a bunch of flowers, as tokens of peace and 
welcome. 


80 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

The admiral of the Turkish fleet, Capudan Pasha, took 
the George Washington under his protection. The Sul¬ 
tan gave Captain Bainbridge a certificate which entitled 
him to special protection in any part of the Turkish 
empire. 

With the ambassadors from the Dey of Algiers mat¬ 
ters went very differently. When the messenger was 
received on board Capudan Pasha’s ship, the admiral 
snatched from the envoy’s hand the Dey’s letter, and 
then, in a great rage, spat and stamped upon it. He was 
then told to inform his master that the admiral meant 
to spit and trample upon him when the two met. The 
Sultan was equally harsh. He told the ambassador that 
he would force the Dey to declare war against France 
within sixty days, and threatened to punish the ruler if 
he did not send to him an immense sum of money. The 
presents of tigers and other animals were viewed by him 
with supreme contempt. 

The sight of the American flag, flown for the first time 
in this section of the world, created a sensation. 

It was said that, seeing the stars in the American 
flag, the Sultan decided that since there was represented 
on his flag one of the heavenly bodies, his country and 
ours must have the same religion. The foreign consuls 
at Constantinople welcomed Captain Bainbridge and he 
in turn entertained them. At one dinner he had on the 
table food and drink from all quarters of the globe, rep¬ 
resenting places at which he had stopped—Europe, Asia, 
Africa, and America, and men from each of these coun¬ 
tries sat at his table. 

We returned to Algiers with a disgruntled ambassador. 
The Sultan, while he treated our commander with great 
courtesy, found fault with the Dey of Algiers’ gifts and 


An American Frigate 81 

threatened to punish both him and his envoy if more 
valuable presents were not forthcoming. All of which 
delighted us hugely. 

When we drew near to Algiers on our return passage, 
we wondered what further indignities would be offered. 
Captain Bainbridge, having learned of the Sultan’s mes¬ 
sage to the Dey, knew that a ship would be required to 
take a second Algerine mission to Constantinople. Fear¬ 
ing that the Dey might try to use the George Washington 
again for this purpose, and suspecting too that to obtain 
the money the Sultan demanded the Algerine prince might 
attempt to enslave the crew of the George Washington 
and hold them for ransom, Captain Bainbridge decided 
that he would anchor his ship out of range of the Dey’s 
guns. Threats and persuasion were used by the Orientals 
to induce us to come into the harbor, but Captain Bain¬ 
bridge squared his jaw and kept the ship where we 
had first anchored. 

Consul O’Brien now rowed out and told our com¬ 
mander that the Dey wanted to have a talk with him. 
The captain, armed with his certificate of protection from 
the Sultan, went ashore. The Dey, maddened over the 
result of his intercourse with the Sultan, and further 
enraged at Captain Bainbridge’s cleverness in avoiding 
his snares, threatened him with torture and slavery, and 
seemed about to call upon his armed janizaries to seize 
the officer. At this moment Captain Bainbridge produced 
the certificate. The tyrant, seeing his master’s signature 
upon a document that expressed good will to the Ameri¬ 
can, fawned and apologized. 


CHAPTER IX 

LIFE ABOARD OLD IRONSIDES 


“And now to thee, 0 Captain, 

Most earnestly I pray, 

That they may never bury me 
In church or cloister gray; 

But on the windy sea-beach, 

At the ending of the land, 

All on the surfy sea-beach, 

Deep down into the sand. 

For there will come the sailors, 

Their voices I shall hear, 

And at casting of the anchor 
The yo-ho loud and clear; 

And at hauling of the anchor 
The yo-ho and the cheer ,— 

Farewell, my love, for to the bay 
I never more may steer ” 

—W. Allingham. 

“T HEAR it reported,” Samuel Childs remarked one 
night on watch, “that Captain Edward Preble is 
coming out in command of the Constitution. Looks like 
he’ll have charge of the Mediterranean fleet. A hard 
man. A hot temper. Pie’s as rough as the New Hamp¬ 
shire rocks where he was born. I doubt whether I’d 
want to serve under him!” 

“The harder they come, the better I like them,” said 
Reuben James. “A hard man means a hard fighter. I 
understand Stephen Decatur’s coming out too. There’s 


82 


Life Aboard “Old Ironsides” 83 

an officer for you! Hope I have a chance to serve under 
both!” 

Samuel Child’s idea of Captain Preble’s disposition was 
held aboard all of our ships. Yet Preble changed this 
adverse comment to enthusiastic admiration. It happened 
in this way: 

As his frigate was passing at night through the Straits 
of Gibraltar he met a strange ship and hailed her. The 
vessel made no reply, but manoeuvred to get into an 
advantageous position for firing. 

“I hail you for the last time!” Preble shouted. “If 
you don’t answer, I’ll fire a shot into you.” 

“If you do, I’ll return a broadside!” came from the 
strange ship. 

“I should like to catch you at that! I now hail for an 
answer. What ship is that?” Captain Preble cried. 

“His Britannic Majesty’s eighty-four gun ship-of-the- 
line Donegal! Sir Richard Strachan. Send a boat on 
board!” 

Preble shouted back: 

“This is the United States’ forty-four gun ship Con¬ 
stitution, Captain Edward Preble, and I’ll be d—d if I 
send a boat on board any ship! Blow your matches, 
boys!” 

No broadside was fired. Captain Preble now shouted 
to the officer that he doubted the truth of his statement 
and would stay alongside until the morning revealed the 
identity of the stranger. A boat now approached, bear¬ 
ing a message from the strange ship’s commander. He 
explained that she was the thirty-two gun British frigate 
Maidstone , and that, taken by surprise, he had resorted 
to strategy in order to get his men to their stations before 
the Constitution fired. 


84 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

Samuel Childs had his chance to serve under this ter¬ 
rible Captain Preble, and so, for that matter, had all of 
us. My first meeting with the captain was far from 
being one that promised comfort. To explain why, I 
had better note here that the clothing supplies of the 
George Washington had been depleted, consequently there 
were several pieces of my dress that were not in accord 
with the regulation uniform. Captain Preble's gaze 
chanced to rest on me. Then, with an outburst that 
nearly frightened me out of my wits, he asked me how 
I dare present myself before him in such attire. 

“If I catch you out of uniform again," he said, “out 
of the service you’ll go!” 

I darted out of his sight, resolving to alter my dress 
at once, but a lieutenant hailed me and gave me a message 
to deliver to the Constellation. He then ordered the 
coxswain to man the running boat. Off we rowed. The 
Constellation lay with her bow towards us. Instead of 
waiting for the Jacob’s ladder to be thrown to me, I 
stood in the bow of the running boat waiting for it to 
be lifted to the crest of a sea. The next roller lifted 
our cockle shell high in the air, approaching the level 
of the ship’s deck. I took advantage of this rise and 
vaulted from our boat. We were in a rough sea, and, 
instead of landing on the bulwark, as I had aimed to 
do, I was hurled by the next roller head-first across the 
vessel’s side. With the velocity of a butting goat, my 
head rammed a group of three officers who had chosen 
that particular spot for a chat. Two of them were tossed 
left and right; the third one was floored. I arose with 
abject apologies. Who should I see squirming and curs¬ 
ing before me but Captain Preble ? I felt my blood turn 
to ice. 


Life Aboard “Old Ironsides” 85 

To my terrified imagination a flogging seemed to be 
the least punishment I could expect. Not only had I 
knocked him down, but here was I appearing before him 
in the clothes he had ordered changed. The other officers, 
crimson and purple with wrath, helped the Captain to 
his feet. It appeared that while I had been waiting for 
the letter, he had gone forth in his gig to inspect the very 
ship I was bound for. 

“Ha!” he exclaimed when he had recovered his breath, 
“the same lad! The same uniform!” 

Then suddenly he looked at his frowning companions 
and burst into laughter. “Why,” he exclaimed, “just 
when we were talking about our enemy’s guns, he came 
'over the side like a cannon ball! I thought the gunners 
of Tripoli were bombarding us!” 

When the laughter ended I had a chance to deliver 
the letter and to explain that the lieutenant had pressed 
me into service before I had an opportunity to change 
my garb. 

He nodded. “The irregularity of your clothes we will 
overlook just now,” he said, “but your irregular way of 
coming aboard, and the headlong way in which you ap¬ 
proach your superiors, and intrude upon their confer¬ 
ences, is a matter that warrants your being turned over 
to the master-at-arms. However, you scamp, we’ll for¬ 
give all of your offences for the laugh you have given 
us! I hope if I ever call on you to board an enemy’s 
ship you’ll go over her side with the same speed!” 

The crew was divided into three sets. The men in 
the first set were called topmen; their duty was to climb 
the masts and to take in or furl, reef or let out the sails. 
This group of topmen were in turn subdivided, according 


86 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

to the masts of the ship. Thus we had fore-topmen, 
main-topmen and mizzen-topmen. 

The second set of men attended to the sails from the 
deck. It was their task to handle the lowest sails, and 
to set and take in the jibs, lower studding sails and 
spanker; they also coiled the ropes of the running gear. 
These men too were grouped according to masts. 

The third set of men were called scavengers. These 
did the dirty work of the ship, gathering the refuse from 
all quarters of the vessel and casting it overboard. 

I, on account of my youth, was assigned to none of 
these sets, but to the boys’ division. There were a dozen 
of us lads on board, and a merry set of scamps we were. 
We were assigned to serve the officers, and because of 
this we managed to overhear and pass to each other a 
good deal of information concerning the operations of 
the ship that was not intended for us to know. Some of 
us became favorites with the officers we served, and when 
we got into mischief and were threatened with punish¬ 
ment, our officers often shielded us. 

In addition to the sailors and boys, the ship had over 
a score of marines on her muster roll. They were the 
policemen of the ship. In battle their place was in the 
rigging, where they picked off the enemy crew with their 
muskets. The marines filled a peculiar position, in that 
they were called upon to uphold the authority of the 
officers, and therefore could not be on intimate terms 
with the sailors—in fact, the officers discouraged fam¬ 
iliarity between the soldiers and sailors. 

As for food, we were the envy of our British cousins. 
Our menu was: Sunday, a pound and a half of beef and 
half a pint of rice; Monday, a pound of pork, half a pint 
of peas and four ounces of cheese; Tuesday, a pound 


Life Aboard “Old Ironsides” 87 

and a half of beef, and a pound of potatoes; Wednesday, 
half a pint of rice, two ounces of butter, and six ounces 
of molasses; Thursday, a pound of pork and half a pint 
of peas; Friday, a pound of potatoes, a pound of salt 
fish, and two ounces of butter or one gill of oil; Saturday, 
a pound of pork, half a pint of peas, and four ounces 
of cheese. In addition, one pound of bread and half a 
pint of spirits, or one quart of beer, were served every 
day. 

Sundays were usually holidays. After muster on the 
spar deck, we would have church service, and then the 
rest of the day was ours to spend as we pleased. We 
wore our best uniforms, but we could never tell from one 
Sunday to another just what kind of dress we were to 
appear in. The captain had a way of ordering us to 
wear one day blue jackets and white trousers, and on 
the next Sunday to change to blue jackets and blue 
trousers. When he wanted us to look particularly smart 
he would command that we wear in addition our scarlet 
vests. When, on top of all this, we donned our shiny 
black hats, we felt fine indeed. 

In fair weather we slept in hammocks, swung on the 
berth deck. We were trained to roll up and stow our ham¬ 
mocks swiftly, so that when a call to action sounded, 
our beds disappeared from sight in the bulwark nettings 
as if by magic. These hammocks, in battle, were placed 
against the bulwarks as shields to prevent splinters 
from hitting us when the vessel was hit. 

Our ship kept a merit roll, upon which were entered 
the names of every member of the crew. If a man did 
his work well, he was given a good standing on this roll; 
the sheet, on the other hand, also showed who were the 
lazy and inefficient members of the crew. The system 


88 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

of handling men was modeled after that of the older 
navies, where each man of the ship’s company was as¬ 
signed a certain duty. 

When a sailor died, we sewxd up our mate’s body 
in his hammock and placed it on a grating in a bow port. 
Then an officer read the burial service. At the words, 
“We commit the body of our brother to the deep,” we 
raised the grating and allowed the body to drop into the 
sea. There would be a heavy splash—then a deep silence 
rested on both the water and the ship for several minutes. 

Our greatest enjoyment came from our band, which 
we had formed out of members of the crew who had 
more or less talent for music. I wondered afterwards 
how our efforts would have sounded in competition with 
a professional band of musicians that in later years 
played aboard one of our sister ships. These musicians 
had found their way into the American navy in a strange 
manner. They had enlisted on board a French warship 
under the condition that they would not be called on to 
fight, but were to be stowed away in the cable tier until 
“the clouds blew over.” It was also stipulated that they 
were not to be flogged—a custom of which many captains 
were far too fond. The French ship upon which they 
played was captured by a Portuguese cruiser. They were 
permitted by the Portuguese to enlist in a British vessel, 
and when the latter was captured by an American frigate, 
the band was enrolled in our navy. 

EVERY-DAY HAZARDS 

In sailing from a cold to a warm climate, we were 
unknowingly weakening our rigging, which had been 
fitted in cold weather. The masts were subject to ex¬ 
pansion and contraction by heat and cold, and so was 


Life Aboard “Old Ironsides” 89 

our cordage. When we entered the Mediterranean our 
shrouds and stays slackened under the hot sun. The ship 
was in this condition when we were caught in a heavy 
gale. The ocean had grown rough. We were at dinner 
when a tremendous wave broke over our bow. It poured 
down the open hatchway, swept from the galley all the 
food that was on the table, washed our table clean of 
eatables, and poured through all of the apartments on 
the berth deck in a terrifying flood. The huge waves 
beating upon our ship from the outside, the tossing of 
the vessel, and the sloshing water we had shipped racked 
the vessel so that it seemed that it must founder. We 
were a white-faced group, for Davy Jones’ locker seemed 
to be yawning for us below, but we kept our upper lips 
stiff and sprang nimbly to obey orders. The officers 
commanded the crew to man the chain pumps and cut 
holes in the berth deck to permit the water to pour into 
the hold, and in this way we emerged from our dangerous 
situation. 

Another peril, however, beset us on deck. One of our 
lieutenants, watching the rigging, discovered that it had 
become so slack that the masts and bowsprit were in 
danger of being carried away. He summoned all avail¬ 
able hands to help tighten the ropes. We managed at 
last to secure purchases on every other shroud, and to 
sway them all together, which restored the firmness. 

One night we had shown to us what a terrifying ex¬ 
perience it is to have a fire break out aboard ship. As 
we were climbing into our hammocks a shower of sparks 
flew up from a corner of the cockpit. 

The captain ordered the drum to beat to quarters, and 
soon the crew was assembled under good control. Fire 
buckets filled with water were standing on the quarter- 


90 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

deck. We ran for them and poured them over the flames. 
All hands emptied buckets on the flames until the fire 
had been quenched. 

If the fire had occurred a few hours later, when we 
were asleep, it might have gathered enough headway to 
sweep the ship. We learned later that a lighted candle 
had fallen from a beam on the deck below and had set 
fire to some cloths. The steward had tried to smother 
the fire with sheets, but all the cloths had then caught 
fire. We did not fully realize our danger until it was 
pointed out to us that the room in which the fire had 
started was next to the powder magazine, and that the 
bulkhead between the two compartments had been 
scorched. 

When decks were cleared for action, you may well 
believe that my heart was in my mouth. The ship’s 
company was running here and there as busy as ants— 
and apparently as confused. The boatswain and his 
mates saw to the rigging and sails. The carpenter and 
his crew prepared shot-plugs and mauls and strove to 
protect the pumps against injury; the lieutenants went 
from deck to deck, supervising the work. The boys who 
were the powder monkeys rushed up and down at their 
tasks of providing the first rounds for the guns; pistols 
and cutlasses were distributed. Rammers, sponges, 
powderhorns, matches and train tackles were placed be¬ 
side every cannon. The hatches were closed, so that no 
man might desert his post and hide below. The gun 
lashings were cast adrift. The marines were drawn up 
in rank and file. These occupations, fortunately, left us 
little time to think of home and loved ones, and by the 
time the decks were cleared, why, the cannon were 
thundering and the missiles were striking about us. 


Life Aboard “Old Ironsides” 


9i 


Bathing and boat racing were popular sports with us; 
yet, in the case of the first pastime, we had to be very 
careful on account of blue sharks. 

It was a matter for wonderment with us that, while 
the blue shark has been known time and again to attack 
white men, he seldom bothered a colored person. We 
had sailors aboard who had sailed in Oriental waters, 
where there are thousands of sharks. These men agreed 
in their story that the natives could swim and dive with¬ 
out fear of them, but if a white man ventured to bathe 
in the same place the sharks would be after him in a 
short time. We learned from these yarn-spinners that 
the pearl-divers of Ceylon stay down under water for 
several minutes at a time while they gather into bags 
the shells that contain pearls, and yet are seldom attacked 
by sharks. This may have been, though, because while 
they were under water their comrades above shouted 
and sang to scare the sharks away. Sometimes natives 
whose skins were of a light color would dye their bodies 
black, while other divers would carry in their girdles 
spikes made of ironwood, which they used to poke out 
the eyes of sharks that came near. 

These stories about sharks were enough to make us 
enter the water warily, and to borrow the custom of the 
pearl divers in making a loud noise when we bathed. 
An experience was awaiting us, however, that brought 
our danger home to us more than all the warnings that 
could be uttered. 

Jim Hodges, perhaps the most expert swimmer among 
us, was fond of boasting that he could outswim a shark. 
One day, when there was a calm sea, he started to swim 
from the side of our vessel to another frigate that was 
anchored close by. We who were on duty watched, over 


92 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

the ship’s side, his progress. Suddenly a gray fin showed 
above the turquoise water, about one hundred yards from 
him, but moving rapidly in his direction. We shouted 
and pointed in the direction of his danger. He heard us, 
realized his peril, and turned instantly towards our ship. 
The shark at once changed its direction so that the 
swimmer and the fish seemed to be following two sides 
of a triangle that would meet at the apex—this point 
being the bow of our vessel. We watched in breathless 
suspense while Hodges moved towards us, swimming 
with amazing coolness and nerve. The shark gained 
steadily. We had lowered a rope at the point nearest 
to the swimmer, and we could see him measuring the 
distance with an anxious look. Those of us who man¬ 
aged to obtain firearms began to shoot at the shark, but 
at last it had drawn so near to the swimmer that there 
was danger of hitting him with our bullets. We ceased 
firing and waited. At last Hodges, with a desperate 
spurt, reached the rope. As soon as we felt his tug 
at it we began hauling him in. If he had seized the rope 
a second later, it would have been too late. The teeth 
of the shark flashed in the swirl at the end of the rope. 
If Hodges had not lifted his feet into the air, one of them 
would have been snapped off. 



IN LOOK AND IN DEED, WILLIAM EATON WAS A FIGHTER. 










CHAPTER X 


A CONNECTICUT YANKEE IN THE COURT OF 

TUNIS 

A T Malta, whom should I bump into but commodore 
Barney! His business in France having been 
completed, he had taken the notion to see southern Europe 
before returning to the United States. 

He was amazed to see me in the uniform of the United 
States, yet proud, too, that I had taken matters into my 
own hands and gone to sea willy-nilly. He told me that 
the rector had been sent back to his Baltimore charge 
by his bishop, and that Alexander had begun business in 
Baltimore as a ship chandler. My story of Murad’s 
treachery brought forth a series of explosions, which, 
however, were cut short by the arrival of the commo¬ 
dore’s friend Captain William Eaton, a military officer 
from the United States, who had stopped in Malta on his 
way to take the office of American envoy at the court 
of Tunis. 

The conversation turned towards Captain Eaton’s mis¬ 
sion to Tunis. “I understand that I have an abominable 
ruler to deal with,” he said, “I shall be doing well if I 
do nothing more than keep Yankee ships and sailors out 
of his hands!” 

“I wish I were going with you, sir,” I said impulsively. 

“Can you write? Are you handy at clerical work?” 
he asked. 

“Is he?” burst out the commodore, “why, the boy was 


95 


96 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

brought up to be a minister. When I knew him a quill 
or a book was never out of his hands!” 

“I have authority from Washington to employ a secre¬ 
tary/’ said the captain. “The lad can accompany me in 
that office.” 

Delighted, I turned away to make the necessary ar¬ 
rangements. “If you haven’t the knack of fighting as 
well as of writing, I advise you to decline the position,” 
Captain Eaton called after me, “for I expect to battle 
with the Bey of Tunis from the hour I arrive!” 

“That,” I returned, “is the reason I said I’d like to 
go along! You look like a fighter, sir!” 

Captain Eaton was pleased instead of offended at my 
boldness. The story of his career, as I heard it later 
from the commodore, proved that the captain was a 
fighter in deeds as well as in looks. He had a broad 
forehead, with deep-set eyes and heavy eyebrows. His 
nose was that of a fighter, and if ever a chin expressed 
determination, his did. 

His career, as I heard it later from the lips of the 
commodore, was fascinating. His father had been a 
farmer-teacher who raised crops in the summer and 
taught school in the winter. William, who was born 
in Woodstock, Connecticut, developed into a lad with a 
studious yet adventurous spirit. When sixteen he ran 
away from home and enlisted in the army where he was 
employed as a waiter by Major Dennie, of the Con¬ 
necticut troops. 


A DARTMOUTH LAD 

After he had risen to the rank of sergeant, he decided 
that he would like to go to college, and secured an honor¬ 
able discharge. He was admitted as a freshman to Dart- 


A Connecticut Yankee 


97 


mouth College, at Hanover, New Hampshire, but was 
given permission to be absent during the coming winter, 
in order that he might by teaching school obtain enough 
money to pursue his studies. Due, however, to difficulties 
at home, he was forced to prolong his school teaching, 
and it was not until two years later that he was able to 
return to Dartmouth. With his pack suspended from a 
staff thrown over his shoulder, he started on foot for 
Hanover. 

In his pack was a change of linen and a few articles 
which he expected to sell on his journey. When he 
reached Northfield, his money gave out, and he was in 
despair. He began, however, to offer his pins, needles 
and other notions for sale, and with the proceeds he was 
able to go on to college. Here he was received with 
great kindness by President Wheelock, and here he pur¬ 
sued his studies, handicapped by sickness and by the 
necessity of teaching school in town. At last, in August, 
1790, he received his degree. In March, 1792, he was 
appointed a captain in the army of the United States, 
and was assigned to duty at Pittsburgh and later at Cin¬ 
cinnati. 

His prediction as to a troubled career in Tunis came 
true. 

With an embrace and a God-speed from Commodore 
Barney, I sailed with Captain Eaton for Tunis. Arriving 
there, Mr. Cathcart led the captain to the Bey’s palace. 
I was allowed to follow. We were ushered into the Bey’s 
Hall of State, and there the captain must approach and 
bow to a fat-faced individual who frowned on him as 
if he were a stray cur that had wandered in among his 
satins and velvets. This fellow, from his safe place 
among his over-dressed officers, poured out abuse. 


98 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

“It is now more than a year since your country 
promised me gifts of arms and ships! Why have they 
not been sent to me?” 

Captain Eaton replied with dignity: “The treaty was 
received by our government about eight months ago; a 
malady then raged in our capital, which forced not only 
the citizens, but all the departments of the government, 
to fly into the interior villages of the country. About the 
time the plague ceased to rage, and permitted the return 
of the government, the winter shut up our harbors with 
ice. We are also engaged in a war with France; and all 
our means were used to defend ourselves against that 
country.” He then went on to explain that he was 
empowered to offer a cash sum instead of the naval 
stores promised. 

“I am not a beggar,” said the Bey, “I have cash to 
spare. The Stores are more than ever needed because 
of my war with France. You have found no trouble 
in fulfilling your promises to Algiers and Tripoli; and to 
Algiers have made presents of frigates and other armed 
vessels.” 

The captain explained that the Dey of Algiers had 
agreed to pay for certain armed vessels built for him by 
the United States, and that, moreover, several years’ time 
had been allowed for their delivery. 

“You may inform me,” said the Bey, “that the Dey 
of Algiers paid you cash for your vessels. I do not 
believe it.” 

Arguments such as this one went on forever. 

Our first pilgrimage, after becoming settled in Tunis, 
was to visit the hill which was once the site of Carthage. 
We passed through fertile pastures where donkeys, sheep, 
cattle, and camels were feeding, and among fields of 


A Connecticut Yankee 


99 


wheat, barley, and oats where awkward camels were used 
for plowing. Captain Eaton’s military soul became 
aroused as we stood at the place where the great Hannibal 
was born. 

My chief was well acquainted with Carthaginian his¬ 
tory and thrilled me with his description of how Han¬ 
nibal, commanding an army of paid mercenaries— 
Africans, Spaniards, Gauls, and Italians—managed them 
for thirteen years through wars and hardships in a 
foreign country without experiencing a single mutiny. 
Captain Eaton little dreamed that, on a small scale to be 
sure, fate had designed him to play the part of a Hannibal 
for his own country—but this will be told in due time. 

When I was not on duty I spent my time taking donkey 
tours of the city, with an Arab boy running behind me 
to make my stubborn steed go. In this fashion I visited 
the Maltese, Jewish and Arab quarters, and explored the 
bazaars. When I grew hungry, why, here was the stand 
of an Arab who sold sweetmeats, and there was the booth 
of a man who fried meat and sold it hot from the fire, 
while always in the streets were fruit merchants selling 
fresh dates, oranges, and figs. When I stopped to buy 
curios, the swarthy, turbaned dealers usually invited me 
into their little shops to sit cross-legged on the floor and 
sip strong black coffee while we haggled over prices. 

THE HORSE-WHIPPING 

Before we arrived in Tunis, the agent there for the 
United States was a French merchant, named Joseph 
Etienne Famin. Upon our arrival the English consul at 
Tunis, Major Magre, warned Captain Eaton not to place 
confidence in Famin, stating that he was a dangerous 
man who would set snares for his successor. Captain 



100 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

Eaton soon learned that the Frenchman had protested 
to the Bey against the United States establishing a consul 
there “to keep the bread out of his mouth.” 

The captain, lonely among enemies, rewarded my faith¬ 
fulness by taking me into his confidence. He told me 
that he had found that Famin had yielded to every out¬ 
rageous demand made by the Bey against the United 
States, which Famin represented. Captain Eaton also 
told me that he suspected the Frenchman of reaping a 
profit from the presents sent by the United States to 
the ruler. Famin, we learned, had declared to the Bey 
that Eaton was nothing but a vice-consul, subject to 
Consul-General O’Brien at Algiers, and only placed at 
Tunis to spy upon the court. 

At last, when the Frenchman told the court that “the 
Americans were a feeble sect of Christians” and that 
their independence from England “was the gift of 
France,” Captain Eaton, giving him his jacket to hold, 
horse-whipped Famin at the marine gate of Tunis, before 
a crowd of amazed Moslems. 

Famin went whining to the Bey and demanded that 
Eaton be punished. 

“How dare you lift your hand against a subject of 
mine in my kingdom?” the Bey demanded of Captain 
Eaton, who took me with him to the palace. 

The captain replied that Famin had tried to betray him, 
and had tried also to betray the Bey. He brought forth 
a paper, and prepared to read its contents. 

“Hear him call your prime minister and your agents 
a set of thieves and robbers!” exclaimed Captain Eaton. 

“Mercy! Forbearance!” cried Famin. 

“Yes, thieves and robbers! This is the man of your 
confidence!” the consul went on. Then I heard him tell 



"HOW DARE YOU LIFT YOUR HAND AGAINST A SUBJECT OF 
MINE?” THE BEY OF TUNIS DEMANDED OF EATON. 

























































A Connecticut Yankee 


103 

the Bey that Famin had blabbed all his secrets to a 
woman, who had repeated them to others, so that all 
the town knew that he was playing a double game with 
the Americans, and increasing the misunderstandings that 
had arisen between the American envoy and the court. 

Famin trembled as if in a fit, and began an address in 
Arabic. 

“Speak French!” said the Bey, frowning. 

The ruler was at last convinced of the Frenchman’s 
guilt. As we quitted the place we heard the Bey say 
to his court: 

“The American consul has been heated, but truly he 
has had reason. I have found him a very plain, candid 
man; and his concern for his fellow-citizens is not a 
crime.” 

On one occasion, while Captain Eaton was in the 
palace, I paid a visit to the executioner, who occupied 
a lodge at the entrance to the palace. I went with an 
interpreter, a friend of the executioner, but even under 
the circumstances I felt timid when the official took down 
from its place on the wall a long curved scimitar and 
began to feel its edge as a reaper feels the blade of his 
scythe. 

“It is a good blade—it has never failed me,” he said, 
“even though I have had to slice off as many as twenty 
heads in a day.” 

If one is disposed to think that the ancient cruelty of 
these Turkish rulers has been decreased, let him think 
of these cruelties which we saw enacted in spite of our 
attempts to stop them. 

Five corsairs from Tunis, manned by nine hundred 
and ninety men, sailed forth and landed upon the island 
of St. Peters, belonging to Sardinia. They captured and 


104 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

brought back with them as prisoners to Tunis two hun¬ 
dred and twenty men and seven hundred women and 
children. In the raid upon the island, old men and 
women, and mothers with infants were pulled from their 
beds, driven down stairs or hurled from windows, driven 
almost naked through the streets, crowded into the filthy 
holds of the cruisers, and then, when landed at Tunis, 
bound with thongs and driven through the streets to the 
auction square, where they were sold into slavery. The 
old, the infirm and the infants, being unfit to work, were 
left to shift for themselves. If it had not been for 
contributions made by Captain Eaton and European am¬ 
bassadors, they would have died of starvation. 

The sum of $640,000 was demanded by the Bey for 
the ransom of the slaves, but at last he agreed to accept 
$270,000 from the king of Sardinia for their redemption. 

WAR BREAKS OUT WITH TRIPOLI 

A fire broke out in the palace and destroyed fifty thou¬ 
sand stands of arms. The Bey called upon Captain 
Eaton to request the United States to forward him ten 
thousand stands of arms. “I have divided my loss,” 
he said, “among my friends; this quota falls to you to 
furnish; tell your government to send them without 
delay.” 

Captain Eaton refused to forward the demand. “You 
will never receive a single musket from the United 
States!” he declared. 

Meanwhile, Captain Eaton’s neighbor consul, Mr. 
Cathcart, was having similar troubles at the court of 
Tripoli. We learned from correspondence that in April, 
1800, Tripoli’s greedy Bashaw had bidden Cathcart, the 
American consul, to tell the President of the United 



I HOPED THAT I MIGHT JOIN A CARAVAN THAT WOULD 
PASS BY TOKRA—THE TREASURE CITY OF MY DREAMS. 





'] 




I 












A Connecticut Yankee 


107 


States that while “he was pleased with his proffers of 
friendship, had they been accompanied by a present of 
a frigate or brig-of-war, he would be still more inclined 
to believe them genuine.” 

In May the Bashaw asked: “Why do not the United 
States send me a present? I am an independent prince 
as well as the Bey of Tunis, and I can hurt the com¬ 
merce of any nation as much as the ruler of Tunis.” 

The President paid no heed to these threats. There¬ 
upon, on May 18, 1801, the Bashaw cut down the flag¬ 
staff of the American consulate at Tripoli. Consul 
Cathcart quitted the city, and a state of war was declared. 

Matters came to a head with us in Tunis in March, 
1803. Commodore Morris had been detained in port 
by the Bey because the American squadron had seized a 
Tunisian vessel bound for Tripoli, with which country 
the United States was at war. Consul Eaton had pro¬ 
tested with more than usual vigor against this outrage. 
The Bey ordered him to quit the court at once. 

“It is well,” replied Captain Eaton, “I am glad to quit 
a court where I have known such violence and indignity!” 

On the 10th of March, we left Tunis on board of one 
of the ships of the American squadron. Doctor George 
Davis, of New York, was left in charge of American 
affairs. On the 30th of the same month, Captain Eaton 
sailed from Gibraltar in the merchant ship Perseverance, 
bound for Boston, at which port he arrived May 5th. 
He then went to Washington to urge that a land campaign 
be waged against the ruling Bashaw of Tripoli, of which 
project more will appear in this story. He was ap¬ 
pointed navy agent for the United States and instructed 
to aid in the campaign of our squadron against the 
Bashaw of Tripoli. 


108 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

I hoped while in Tunis to obtain a leave of absence 
that I might join a caravan that would pass by Tokra, 
the treasure city of my dreams. But no opportunity 
came. I remained with the fleet while Captain Eaton 
was at home and rejoined him when he returned. He 
brought with him a plan of campaign that, in operation, 
was to bring me well within reach of the treasure spot. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE LOSS OF THE PHILADELPHIA 


“But sailors were born for all weathers, 
Great guns let it blow, high or low y 
Our duty keeps us to our tethers , 

And where the gales drive we must go.” 


T T ARD luck, indeed! The frigate Philadelphia 
■** * stranded on a reef in the harbor of Tripoli, and 
Captain Bainbridge and his men were left captives in 
the hands of the Bashaw. Yet the ill wind for them was 
a kind wind for me, since it brought me a chance to 
serve under Stephen Decatur in what men say is one of 
the most brilliant exploits in our navy’s annals. 

Fortunately, before this disaster befell, Captain Bain¬ 
bridge had been given an opportunity to show the 
Mediterranean squadron his mettle, for Commodore 
Preble had assigned the Philadelphia, under Bainbridge, 
to blockade duty on the Barbary Coast. 

When I fell in again with Samuel Childs and Reuben 
James after my sojourn in Tunis, the first yarn spun to 
me in the night watch was that of how the Philadelphia 
had been captured. Reuben James was boatswain aboard 
of her when she was seized. He dived overboard and 
swam to safety when he saw that the jig was up, and 
rejoined the fleet to tell again and again the story of 
Bainbridge’s gallantry in the face of misfortune. 

Reuben’s story ran like this: The Philadelphia, while 
cruising in the vicinity of Cape Gata, had come upon 

109 


no Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

and hailed a cruiser and a brig. When the commander 
of the cruiser, at Captain Bainbridge’s repeated demands, 
sent a boat aboard with his ship’s papers, the captain 
learned that the cruiser belonged to the Emperor of 
Morocco; that her name was the Meshboha; that her 
commander was Ibrahim Lubarez; that she carried 
twenty-two guns and one hundred men. 

The captain then sent an armed party to search the 
brig. He found imprisoned in her hold Captain Richard 
Bowen, and seven men. The brig was the Celia of 
Boston. Captain Bainbridge released her crew, and im¬ 
prisoned the officers and men of the Meshboha aboard 
his frigate. 

Asked by what authority he had captured an American 
vessel, Ibrahim Lubarez replied that he understood that 
Morocco intended to declare war on the United States 
and that when he seized the vessel he thought that a 
state of war existed. The captain suspected that the 
Emperor of Morocco had given orders that American 
ships be seized. “You have committed an act of piracy/’ 
he told the Moor, “and for it you will swing at our 
yardarm!” 

“Mercy! Mercy!” wailed Ibrahim. Unbuttoning five 
waistcoats, he brought forth from a pocket of the fifth 
a secret document signed by the Governor of Tangiers. 

Captain Bainbridge reported the matter to Captain 
Preble, and the latter at once proceeded to Tangiers with 
four frigates. There the Emperor abjectly disclaimed all 
knowledge of the affair, renewed his treaty, deprived the 
Governor of Tangiers of his office, and punished the 
commander of the Meshboha. 

The American squadron was given a salute of twenty- 
one guns; a present of ten bullocks with sheep and fowl 


The Loss of the “Philadelphia” ill 

was made to Captain Preble, and the Emperor’s court 
reviewed the American ships and engaged with them in 
an exchange of salutes. 

But, Reuben testified, when the American officers dis¬ 
cussed the Emperor’s declaration of innocence, they spoke 
of it as if it were a huge joke. 

On the morning of October 31st, 1803, Reuben, who 
was the lookout on the Philadelphia, espied a corsair 
sneaking out of a port. Captain Bainbridge at once 
swung his vessel round in pursuit. The wind was strong, 
enabling the frigate to gain on the pirate craft. 

The ship was one of a corsair fleet under command 
of the Bashaw’s captains, Zurrig, Dghees, Trez, Romani, 
and El Mograbi. Zurrig had sailed away from the other 
vessels on purpose to decoy the American ship on to a 
line of partly-submerged rocks that lay in the waters of 
the bay, parallel to the shore. The captain of the corsair 
knew every yard of the coast, and by hugging the shore, 
he soon drew the pursuing frigate into shallow water. 
The Philadelphia had drawn close enough to the fleeing 
vessel to attack with the bow guns, and in the excite¬ 
ment of seeing if the shots struck home, the officers and 
crew forgot that their vessel was in danger of running 
upon a reef the corsair knew well how to avoid. 

A BRAVE officer’s BAD LUCK 

Eight fathoms of water had been reported. Then the 
men who threw the lead reported seven fathoms. The 
cry of six and a half fathoms soon followed. Captain 
Bainbridge at once gave the order to head seaward. The 
helm was thrown hard over; the sails flapped as the 
vessel came up to the wind. It seemed that she would 
reach deep water safely, but suddenly the vessel struck 


1 12 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

a rock and rose with her bow six feet out of water. 
From beneath the walls of the city, scarcely three miles 
away, the Bashaw’s gunboats put out and opened fire 
on the Philadelphia. Captain Bainbridge made every 
possible attempt to free his vessel. The guns forward 
and other parts of her equipment were thrown overboard, 
but the reef held her in an unyielding grip. Her crew 
returned the fire of the corsairs as best they could, but 
as the tide went out, the ship keeled over and the guns 
could no longer be fired. Captain Bainbridge ordered 
that the magazine be flooded ; that the pumps be wrecked; 
and that holes be bored in the ship’s bottom. 

Warships—feluccas and other small boats crowded 
with Arabs—now attacked the Philadelphia. Led by their 
captains, they swarmed over her sides. The Americans 
fought with small arms, wounding six of their assailants, 
but Bainbridge saw that his men would be massacred if 
the fight were prolonged, and hauled down the flag. 
Bainbridge and his crew of three hundred and fifteen 
men then surrendered. A few of the best swimmers took 
to the water, Reuben among them, but all were captured 
except him. 

The captives, by means I will later describe, managed 
to write frequently to their friends aboard vessels of 
the fleet. Reuben corresponded with Tom Bowles, and 
thus knew as much about the experiences of the prisoners 
as if he were among them. 

A few days later, he found out, the pirates managed 
to haul the vessel off the reef at flood-tide. They re¬ 
covered the guns that had been thrown overboard, and 
boasted that their navy now owned a splendid American 
worship that had come into their possession without 
spending a sequin, or a drop of blood. The red flag bear- 


The Loss of the “Philadelphia” 113 

ing the crescent of the Moslems was lifted where the Stars 
and Stripes had flown. To purge the vessel of Christian 
contamination, and to consecrate her to the Prophet, the 
green flag of Mohammed was unfurled at certain periods. 

As soon as the Americans gave up their arms, the 
infidels began to plunder them of all of their valuables. 
Swords, epaulets, trinkets, money, and clothing were 
taken. Captain Bainbridge wore a locket around his 
neck that contained a miniature picture of his wife. One 
of the looters snatched at it, but Captain Bainbridge made 
a determined resistance and was at last allowed to keep 
the trinket. 

The boats containing the prisoners reached the docks 
of Tripoli at ten o’clock that night. The Bashaw was 
eager to inspect his captives, and received them in his 
audience hall, where he and his staff sat gloating. After 
much questioning, he sent them to supper, placing them 
under the care of Sidi Mohammed D’Ghiers, his prime 
minister. Mr. Nissen, the Danish consul, came promptly 
to comfort the prisoners, and to offer them such as¬ 
sistance as was in his power to render. 

The Bashaw, who knew that some of the twenty-two 
officers he had bagged were members of prominent 
American families who could afford to pay big ransoms, 
was so delighted with the capture that he did not at 
first treat the captives severely. They were allowed to 
wander among groves of olive, fig, and lemon trees, and, 
on feast days, were sprinkled with attar of roses and 
fumigated with frankincense, while slaves served them 
coffee and sherbet. 

The under-officers and sailors were at first treated 
with some consideration. The carpenters, riggers, and 
sailmakers were employed in making repairs on the 


114 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

Bashaw’s gun-boats. The seamen worked on fortifica¬ 
tions. These men, by working overtime, earned a little 
money, which they usually spent for drink. The Mus¬ 
sulmans hated drunkenness. When they saw a drunken 
American, they spat in his face. Jack, in turn, thrashed 
the offender. Arrest and punishment followed, but the 
Moslems who guarded the slaves were subject to bribery 
and lightened their blows. 

When the sailor was sentenced to receive blows on his 
bare feet, the guard would cover the soles with straw 
pads, telling the culprit to yell as if he were being hurt, 
as the chief of the guards was standing outside to tell 
by the cries whether the punishment was being admin¬ 
istered. 

The comfort of the officers was soon to end. Reuben 
showed me letters received from Tom Bowles written at 
this period that were full of bitter complaints. It ap¬ 
peared that the Bashaw summoned Captain Bainbridge 
to his presence and told him that one of his ships had 
been captured by the American war vessel John Adams, 
and that if their prisoners were not released the officers 
and men of the Philadelphia would be severely treated. 
Captain Bainbridge was not able to give a reply that sat¬ 
isfied the ruler. The Bashaw then ordered that he and his 
men be removed to a foul dungeon. There, in a room 
once used for smoking hides, they were obliged to remain 
without food except a little black bread and water. 

A renegade Scotchman named Lisle, in the employ of 
the Bashaw, visited Captain Bainbridge here and urged 
him to send a message to the John Adams to release the 
prisoners. 

Captain Bainbridge answered: “Your ruler can subject 
me to torture and can lop off my head, but he can not 


The Loss of the “Philadelphia” 115 

force me to commit an act incompatible with the character 
of an American officer.” 

When Captain Bainbridge learned that the Bashaw of 
Tripoli designed to use the Philadelphia as the chief ship 
of his own navy, he was greatly distressed. 

With the aid of the Danish consul Nissen, he managed 
to write a letter to Commodore Preble, who was on his 
way to blockade Tripoli. This letter he wrote in lemon 
juice, which, when the paper is held to the fire, becomes 
readable. This letter Commodore Preble showed to the 
officers and enlisted men of the squadron, and even gave 
us permission to copy it for keepsakes in honor of Cap¬ 
tain Bainbridge’s pluck and resourcefulness. In the letter 
the latter advanced this plan for destroying his frigate: 

“Charter a small merchant schooner, fill her with 
men and have her commanded by fearless and de¬ 
termined officers. Let the vessel enter the harbor at 
night, with her men secreted below deck; steer her 
directly on board the frigate and then let the officers 
and men board, sword in hand, and there is no doubt 
of their success. It will be necessary to take several 
good rowboats in order to facilitate the retreat after 
the enterprise has been accomplished. The frigate 
in her present condition is a powerful auxiliary bat¬ 
tery for the defense of the harbor. Though it will 
be impossible to remove her from anchorage and thus 
restore this beautiful vessel to our navy, yet, as she 
may and no doubt will be repaired, an important end 
will be gained by her destruction.” 

How faithfully this plan was carried out by Commo¬ 
dore Preble and his men, I shall soon show. 


CHAPTER XII 


WE BLOW UP THE PHILADELPHIA 

A DUEL 

R EUBEN, Samuel and other members of our crew 
attended a theatrical performance in Malta during 
a period in which our ship was detained in that harbor 
by a gale. 

There were British ships in port and the contacts of 
their crews with men from our ships was seldom friendly. 
The little affair of the Revolution had not yet been for¬ 
gotten, and, besides, the British habit of impressing us 
did not contribute towards a harmonious spirit. This 
island was one of England’s fortresses in those waters 
and, of course, Englishmen abounded. 

We saw in the theatre several of our midshipmen, 
looking very spruce in their dress uniforms, with brass 
buttons shining and with flashing dirks hanging by light 
chains from their hips. Among them was Joseph Bain- 
bridge, the younger brother of Captain William Bain- 
bridge. He was a slender, bright-eyed, manly young 
fellow, the most popular middie aboard the Constitution. 

The group were standing in the lobby as we entered. 
We saw a crowd of young British officers looking them 
over with an air that came near to being insulting. Our 
middies were returning their gaze boldly and with even 
more insolence. 

116 


We Blow up the “Philadelphia” 117 

One of the British officers, a tall, handsome fellow 
looking very fine in his scarlet coat with silk braid, col¬ 
lided with Bainbridge in the lobby. 

“I beg your pardon/’ we heard young Bainbridge say. 
The lads had been warned by the captain to avoid quar¬ 
rels and Bainbridge, we could see, was trying to obey the 
command. 

'‘That fellow pushed Joe on purpose,” said Reuben, 
clenching his huge fist. “I’ve heard of that pusher—he’s 
Captain Tyler, the Governor’s secretary, a bad man in 
a duel. He has a dozen deaths to his credit, and is 
itching to add an American life to his score!” 

When the performance was over—the singer Carlotta 
had entertained us well—we went out behind the middies, 
as a sort of rear-guard. We weren’t looking for trouble, 
but if those lads got into a tussle, we felt that they might 
need aid from some plain sailors. 

Captain Tyrone Tyler was standing where Bainbridge 
and his comrades had to pass. He gave young Bain¬ 
bridge a dig with his elbow, whereupon our middy turned 
and spoke to him sharply. Tyler then jammed his elbow 
into the middy’s face, and with his other hand tried to 
seize our lad by the collar. 

“Rough work—stand by!” said Reuben to us. We 
pushed forward. 

Bainbridge, however, had eluded Tyler’s grasp. 

His hand went out towards his tormentor, but it had 
a card in it. 

“You are a bully and a coward,” he said as cool as 
ice, “and I welcome the duty of putting a stop to your 
insults to American officers.” 

Tyler took the card from him. The comrades of both 

men closed in. 


n8 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

‘‘It’ll be a duel,” said Reuben, in great disgust, “and 
our lad will go up against that killer! Why didn’t he 
decide to let us settle it with our fists ?” 

As the two parties separated, Reuben glanced towards 
another part of the lobby. “What ho,” he exclaimed, 
“there’s Lieutenant Decatur looking on! He’d have 
taken part in the affair, you can bet your boots!” 

Stephen Decatur, first lieutenant of the Constitution, 
followed the midshipman out of the theatre. We saw 
him approach Bainbridge and draw him away from the 
other middies, who were as flustered as hens. 

We learned later that the meeting was to be on the 
beach the next day at nine o’clock. You may be sure 
that every man Jack of us was on the lookout to see if 
Lieutenant Decatur intended to permit Bainbridge to go 
ashore. When we saw them go off together in the cutter 
there was little work done among the crew. It looked 
to us as if the midshipman was on his way to sure death, 
and we decided that Decatur was going to seek a way 
out of the quarrel for the lad. 

Reuben shook his head. “That would be against the 
honor of the United States’ navy. Decatur may give him 
a lesson or two in duelling, but he’ll see the thing through. 
They’re leaving the ship a full hour and a half before 
the time set—I’ll wager there’ll be pistol practice some¬ 
where.” 

About half-past nine a boat put out from the shore. 
There were two officers in it and both sat upright and 
chatted to each other. Could it be that-? 

An hour later, young Bainbridge told us what had 
happened. Decatur, as the second of Bainbridge, had 
chosen pistols at four paces. Tyler’s second objected. 
“This looks like murder, sir!” he said to Decatur. 



We Blow up the “Philadelphia” 119 

The lieutenant replied: “No sir, this looks like death; 
your friend is a professed duellist; mine is inexperi¬ 
enced.” 

Decatur gave the warning: “Take aim!” and then 
“Fire!” Both, through agitation, missed. Again they 
faced each other. The pistols were discharged simul¬ 
taneously. Tyler fell. A surgeon hurried towards him, 
while Bainbridge turned to Decatur. “I don’t think his 
bullet touched me!” he said. 

“I thank God for that!” said the lieutenant. “I fear it 
is not so well with your adversary, but he invited it. 
Let’s be off!” They passed poor Tyler, lying mortally 
wounded, and lifted their hats as they went. 

Reuben James, ever since I met him, had talked Decatur, 
Decatur, Decatur. He idolized him. During our coun¬ 
try’s affair with France he had served on a frigate on 
which Decatur was a midshipman, and the exploits of 
the young officer had so appealed to Reuben that he 
would have followed the youth into the mouth of death. 

And indeed, what Reuben told me about Decatur made 
me also a fervent worshipper. 

My own state was proud to claim Decatur as a son, 
for he was born in Sinnepuxent, Maryland. He was of 
the blood of Lafayette. His father and grandfather had 
been naval officers before him; and the former had served 
with honor on our side in the war of the Revolution. 

This, however, was not his first experience in these 
waters. He had been an officer in Captain Dale’s squad¬ 
ron, serving on the Essex under Captain Bainbridge. 
Bainbridge and he had been linked in an affair that 
made him eager now to help his imprisoned friend. The 
commander of a Spanish gunboat insulted Captain Bain¬ 
bridge at long distance while the Essex lay in the harbor 


120 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

of Barcelona. Later Decatur was also insulted. De¬ 
catur visited the gunboat. 

“Where is your captain ?” he demanded of the officer 
on duty. 

“He has gone ashore/' was the reply. 

“Tell him that Lieutenant Decatur, of the frigate 
Essex , pronounces him a cowardly scoundrel, and that 
when they meet on shore he will cut his ears off!” 

The matter came to the attention of the commandant 
of the port, who requested Captain Bainbridge to curb 
his fiery officer. The captain replied that if the gunboat 
commander did not know how to be courteous to Ameri¬ 
can officers he must take the consequences. The com¬ 
mandant thereupon ordered the gunboat captain to 
apologize to Decatur. The matter reached the ears of 
the King of Spain. 

“Treat all officers of the United States with courtesy,” 
he ordered, “and especially those attached to the United 
States frigate Essex” 

decatur’s brilliant exploit 

Seventy volunteers were required to help Lieutenant 
Decatur blow up the Philadelphia. Seventy volunteers— 
that meant that I had a chance to go. Fortunately, I 
was one of the first to hear the orders read, and thus 
had an opportunity to apply before others. Captain Eaton 
was on board the Siren, returning from sitting at the 
court of inquiry, when Lieutenant Stewart, commander 
of the Siren, read to him orders he had just received 
from Commodore Preble. I, as orderly to Captain Eaton, 
was present at the reading. Plain and direct was the 
message, but thrilling enough without flourishes. 

I stepped forward. 


We Blow up the “Philadelphia” 121 

“Pardon me, Sir,” I said, “but I want to be one of 
the seventy volunteers. I speak also for Reuben James. 
Reuben has served under Lieutenant Decatur at other 
times, and he’d be heartbroken to be left behind.” 

I realized as I waited for a reply that I had done a 
bold thing. I was not supposed to be hearing the letter 
read, much less acting upon it. However, Lieutenant 
Stewart was not strict about discipline and he took no 
offence at my act. 

“Your name goes down!” he said, “also Reuben James, 
though he’ll be given a chance to speak for himself. You 
show the right spirit, young man, but don’t feel lofty 
about it, for I expect any other man of our navy would 
have said the same thing if he were standing in your 
place.” 

Properly humbled, I went off to tell Reuben James 
that he had me to thank for gaining him an adventure. 

Lieutenant Stewart’s prediction came true. The 
crews of the squadron actually fought with each other 
for a chance to go. Decatur’s name to them spelt ro¬ 
mance. His exploits had been on every man’s lips. 

The crew of the ketch Intrepid having been chosen, 
off we started. It was sundown when we drifted into 
the harbor of Tripoli. We approached the city know¬ 
ing that a sudden fear of attack had swept over Tripoli; 
that the forts were manned; the guns loaded, and a sharp 
watch kept. 

We learned later that the Moslem guards congratu¬ 
lated themselves when they saw the ketch entering the 
harbor, thinking that it was manned by good Mohammed¬ 
ans who had had the shrewdness to escape blockading ships. 

The gates of the city were shut. The Captain of 
the Port would not inspect the ship until morning. The 


122 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

call of the muezzin sounded over the still waters of the 
bay. Night fell on the city. 

On board the Intrepid all of the crew, except six men 
disguised as Moors, were concealed below deck or be¬ 
hind bulwarks. Our ketch drifted towards the Phila¬ 
delphia. A sentinel on the frigate hailed us, but the 
answer came back from our Maltese pilot in the sentry’s 
own language to the effect that the ketch had lost her 
anchors during a recent gale and wished to make fast to 
the anchors of the Philadelphia until new ones could be 
purchased the next morning. As if taking permission 
for granted, Lieutenant Decatur directed Blake, a sailor 
who spoke Maltese, and Reuben and myself to set out 
from the ketch in a small boat for the purpose of fasten¬ 
ing a line to a ring-bolt on the frigate’s bow. When this 
was done, the sailors on the ketch were to haul on the 
line, to bring our boat nearer to the frigate. The men 
hidden behind the bulwarks caught the rope as it came 
through the hands of their disguised comrades, and 
helped in the hauling. 

Suspecting nothing, the Moslems on the Philadelphia 
sent in turn a small boat with a line to aid in mooring 
the Intrepid, but Blake met them and took the line from 
their hands, saying, in broken Maltese: 

“We will save the gentlemen the trouble.” 

So far so good. But now, as the ketch was being 
hauled in by the bow line, the pull of the stern line 
swung her broadside towards the Tripolitans, and the 
guards on the Philadelphia saw the men who, under the 
screen of the bulwarks, were hauling in the line. 

“Americanos! Americanos!” we heard them shriek. 

Swift action followed on the part of Decatur. The 
hidden sailors sprang into the open and gave the line a 


We Blow up the “Philadelphia” 123 

pull that sent the ketch close to the Philadelphia. An 
Arab cut the rope, but the Americans were now near 
enough to throw grapnels. 

“Boarders away!” Decatur shouted. We in the boat 
clambered up the sides of the Philadelphia. The rest 
of the seventy climbed like cats over the vessel’s rail 
with Midshipman Morris in the lead and Decatur at his 
heels. The Philadelphia's deck was home ground to 
many of us, and in a moment we had cleared the quarter¬ 
decks of the enemy. Then, in a cutlass charge, we drove 
the panic-stricken crew before us. Some of the infidels 
leaped overboard. Others sought refuge below, but 
died at the hands of sailors who had climbed through 
the ports. In ten minutes’ time a rocket went up from 
the Americans to signal to the Siren that the Philadel¬ 
phia had been taken. 

Combustibles had been rushed on board. Firing gangs 
were distributed through the ship. So swift was the 
work and so fierce was the blaze that Midshipman 
Morris and his gang, who were setting fire to the cock¬ 
pit, were almost cut off by flames started elsewhere. 
From the portholes on both sides the flames leaped out, 
enveloping the upper deck. I saw that Decatur was 
the last to leave the ship. 

The ketch, when all of the boarding party had re¬ 
turned to it in safety, had its period of danger too, for 
while it was still fastened at the frigate’s stern, flames 
poured from the cabin of the Philadelphia into the cabin 
of the ketch where the ammunition was stored. The line 
was instantly severed. The crew laboring desperately 
with the big sweeps, eight to a side, pushed the Intrepid 
clear of the burning vessel and headed for the sea. 

At last the flames reached the magazine of the vessel, 


124 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

which burst with a tremendous roar. Great sheets of 
flames arose and sparks flew like a storm of stars over 
the waters of the harbor. This was the end of the good 
ship Philadelphia. 

Every man on the Intrepid returned without injury. 
Lord Nelson later declared this exploit to be “the most 
bold and daring act of the age.” Decatur was made a 
captain. He received a letter from the Secretary of 
the Navy, and noted with joy that it was addressed to 
“Stephen Decatur, Esq., Captain in the Navy of the 
United States.” His pride increased when he read: 

“The achievement of this brilliant enterprise reflects* 
the highest honor on all the officers and men con¬ 
cerned. You have acquitted yourself in a manner 
which justifies the high confidence we have reposed 
in your valor and your skill. The President has de¬ 
sired me to convey to you his thanks for your gallant 
conduct on this occasion, and he likewise requests that 
you will in his name thank each individual of your 
gallant band for their honorable and valorous support, 
rendered the more honorable from its having been vol¬ 
unteered. As a testimonial of the President’s high 
opinion of your gallant conduct in this instance, he 
sends you the enclosed commission.” 

Some people asked if the Philadelphia could not have 
been saved, though Commodore Preble’s orders were to 
destroy her. We heard one of the captive officers of 
the frigate say later: 

“I know of nothing which could have rendered it im¬ 
practicable to the captors to have taken the Philadelphia 
out of the harbor of Tripoli.” The pilot on board the 
ketch, Catalona, was of the same opinion. Decatur him- 


We Blow up the “Philadelphia” 125 

self told his wife that he believed that he could have 
towed the ship out, even if he could not have sailed her. 

But Commodore Preble, in setting down explicit orders 
to destroy her, had written: “I was well informed that 
her situation was such as to render it impossible to bring 
her out.” 

He wrote thus because Captain Bainbridge himself 
had written: 

“By chartering a merchant vessel and sending her 
into the harbor with men secreted, and steering directly 
on board the frigate, it might be effected without any 
or a trifling loss. It would not be possible to carry the 
frigate out, owing to the difficulty of the channel.” 

The main object was to get the Philadelphia out of 
the possession of Tripoli. This Decatur did without 
risking the success of his enterprise. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE AMERICAN EAGLE ENTERS THE AFRICAN 

DESERT 

U OTTER and hotter grew our campaign. Thicker 
and faster adventures came. I could not be in 
the center of all of them, but I had reason to be glad 
that I had been with Captain Eaton in Tunis, because 
now he was returning to the seat of war to launch an 
attack, and I, because of his friendship for me, was 
granted the chance to go along. This new enterprise 
came about in this way. 

Captain Bainbridge, I was told by Captain Eaton, 
while a prisoner in Tripoli, observed in the Bashaw’s 
court three forlorn children. He inquired who they 
were. 

“They are the children of Hamet Bashaw,” a guard 
informed him. “Hamet Bashaw is the elder brother of 
our ruler, Joseph Bashaw. Hamet occupied this throne, 
until Joseph set on foot a rebellion and drove him out. 
Hamet fled to Egypt, and his children were captured 
by our monarch’s troops. They are now held here as 
hostages, to insure that Hamet will make no attempts to 
regain the kingdom.” 

“That gives me an idea,” Captain Bainbridge re¬ 
marked to his officers, and he set to work to plan to 
unite against Joseph the forces of Hamet and the United 
States. 


126 


127 


The American Eagle 

The lemon juice was again used as ink. In his letter 
to one of the consuls, the captain suggested that the 
United States should send a party out to find Hamet and 
persuade him to lead a movement to regain his throne, 
using in the campaign marines and sailors of the Ameri¬ 
can navy. 

It was this scheme, proposed to him while he was in 
Tunis, that Captain Eaton advanced when he visited the 
Navy Department. He returned to the fleet with per¬ 
mission to join forces with Hamet. 

My employer’s enterprise seemed at first thought to 
be doomed to failure. Most naval men disapproved and 
Captain Murray, then in command of the Gibraltar 
squadron, opposed it strenuously. Captain Eaton’s title 
of “Naval Agent” was also resented by Murray and 
other officers. The captain met their attacks with his 
usual vigor. 

“The government,” he burst out, “may as well send 
out Quaker meeting-houses to float about this sea as 
frigates with Murrays in command. The friendly salutes 
he may receive and return at Gibraltar produce nothing 
at Tripoli. Have we but one Truxton and one Sterret 
in the United States?” Later, he included Preble and 
Decatur in his list of worthy officers. 

Our first task, then, was to find Hamet, whom Joseph 
had displaced as ruler of Tripoli. 

In the finding of Hamet we were greatly assisted by 
a German engineer named Leitensdorfer, who had been 
a colonel in a Tyrol battalion. At this period he was at 
Cairo, employed as a military engineer by the Turks. 
News came to him that Captain Eaton desired, a secret 
agent to deliver a message to Hamet. He deserted the 
Turks and sought Captain Eaton, who employed him. 


128 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

With one attendant and two dromedaries, he entered 
the desert in search of the Arab tribe that had given 
shelter to Hamet. The only sleep he secured was what 
he could snatch on the back of his beast; he fed his ani¬ 
mals small balls composed of meal and eggs. Reaching 
the camp in safety, he was cordially received, and re¬ 
freshed with coffee. Hamet agreed to the American 
proposals, and one night with one hundred and fifty 
followers, he rode away from the Mameluke camp as if 
on an ordinary ride, but instead he rode to our camp with 
Leitensdorfer. 

It had been decided that our route of march should 
be over the Libyan desert, along the sea-coast, to the 
town of Derne. The Viceroy at Alexandria, bribed by 
the French consul, forbade us to enter the city or to 
embark from the harbor. We were not troubled by this 
order, however, because Hamet said that if he went by 
ship along the coast while the Arabs were left to cross 
the desert, they would soon lose heart and turn back. 

Our object in attacking the Tripolitan cities of Derne 
and Bengazi was to cut off the enemy’s food supplies; 
to open a channel for intercourse with the inland tribes; 
and to use these cities as recruiting places for our at¬ 
tack on Tripoli. 

The desert lay ahead of us—the place of which an 
ancient traveler once said: “How can one live where not 
a drop of rain falls; where not a single dish is to be 
had; where butter can no more be procured than the 
philosopher’s stone; where wheat is the diet of kings 
alone; where the common man lives on dates, and fever 
has its headquarters?” 

Except for oases here and there, the Libyan desert is 
so barren that there is no animal life. At the oases, 


129 


The American Eagle 

towns have been in existence since the days of the 
Romans. In one of these, Ghadames, the streets are 
covered from the sun, and give the traveler the im¬ 
pression that he is entering a mine. Caravan roads run 
from oasis to oasis. Donkeys, horses and cattle are 
used as beasts of burden, but the camel is the chief of 
desert animals. 

Tripoli extends for many hundreds of miles along the 
coast from Tunis to Egypt. Its cities and oases contain 
about a million people. Along its caravan routes traders 
bring ostrich feathers, elephant tusks, and other prod¬ 
ucts from Central Africa to be shipped to Europe. 

Into this desert we push, a motley army. Arab ad¬ 
venturers have gathered around Hamet, sheiks and 
tribesmen who are moved only by a hope of plunder 
and reward. Our own American forces can be depended 
on, but how few they are. The six marines are a good- 
natured, independent set, sufficient unto themselves. They 
look at the Greek soldiers whom the Greek captain has 
enlisted with great amusement, for the Greeks wear 
kilts. However, they too are good-humored, and the 
Americans and Greeks may be counted on to stick to¬ 
gether, being Christians, against the semi-hostile in¬ 
fidels. 

Our food consists of dates, figs, apricots, camel’s meat, 
and camel’s milk. After a while even these will grow 
scarce and famine will confront us as it confronted Jacob 
and his sons in this same country, but for the present let 
us not look forward to hunger. 

At the front of our caravan, on swift camels bred 
for racing, ride the sheiks. Trained to be on the watch 
for robber bands, they survey the horizon keenly, al¬ 
though our expedition is so large that there is little need 


130 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

to fear attack. Thieves will steal up to plunder at night, 
but they dare not attempt robbery in force. 

Behind these picturesque chiefs, come the freight 
camels, loaded with all kinds of equipment and supplies. 
They are drab and sullen as the desert itself. On these 
beasts ride their owners, Bedouins in long, white or 
brown gowns, wrapped so that only their faces may be 
seen. 

Our water we carry in pigskins, loaded on certain 
camels. There are also jugs of oil. The water tastes 
like the pigskin, and it almost sickens one to drink it. 

We follow no path or road; there is none; yet our 
guides know the way by rocks and hills or other marks. 
At night the stars are our only guides, but the march has 
been arranged so that we camp near a well or spring 
every night. 

When we stop to rest, the camels kneel down to be re¬ 
lieved of their burdens. Their feet are examined to see 
if they have been bruised, and such wounds are treated 
and bound up, after which the camels are hobbled to keep 
them from running away. 

Meanwhile, our tents are being pitched. We smooth 
out the soft sand to make a comfortable bed. We have 
brought fuel with us, and with this a fire is made. Guards 
are stationed, and we sleep with our guns near our hands. 
The Mohammedans in our party, after first rubbing 
their faces and hands with sand because water is not to 
be had, kneel in prayer. 

During the day the sun beats upon us with almost un¬ 
bearable heat, and as there are no clouds in the sky, the 
sun’s rays, striking against the white sand, almost blind 
us, while to make things more uncomfortable, the camels 
raise a thick dust. We understand now why the Arabs 


The American Eagle 131 

wear cloths about their heads. We follow their example, 
and cut slits in the cloths for eyes and nose. After the 
sun goes down it is better for traveling. 

It is lucky for us that we are sailors and used to a 
rolling motion, for the motion of the camel is like that of 
a ship. 

A sand storm comes. A small black cloud arises and 
grows till in a short time it has half covered the sky, 
The sand begins to blow, and beats into our faces like 
hail. We stop the caravan; the camels kneel; and fight¬ 
ing off terror, we lie down with our faces in the ground 
beside the beasts. The blowing sand is so thick that it 
hides the sun. 

The storm passes quickly. There has been, for all 
the blackness of the clouds, no drop of rain. 

After the sun goes down, the air becomes cool and 
blankets are needed. The sky is full of low-hanging 
stars and the moon is big and mellow. 

Once in a while we meet a wandering tribe that moves 
from green place to green place with their animals, liv¬ 
ing in tents of camels’-hair cloth. “Aleikoom salaam!” 
(Peace be with you!) they call to us, bobbing up and 
down on their camels. t( Salaam aleikoom!” (With you 
be peace!) we answer. Bands of robbers appear in the 
distance. At the oases we meet farmers who are not 
given to roving. They have priests and sheiks, and wor¬ 
ship in mosques, and raise grain and vegetables. Once 
in a while a hospitable sheik roasts a kid on a stick and 
invites us to dine. Fingers are forks here. We find it so 
highly seasoned with red pepper that our mouths burn 
and our eyes water. 

The approach of a caravan is picturesque and exciting. 
First you hear a moaning sound like the wailing of a 


132 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

strong wind through a clump of trees. Then a cloud 
appears on the horizon. In a few moments you see that 
this cloud is of dust, and that in its midst are scores of 
camels. The rumbling noise you heard is found to be 
merely the gurgling sound that camels make. 

It was also interesting to observe a caravan go into 
camp. The foreleg of each camel was folded and tied 
to keep the beast from wandering; baby camels, their 
white coats contrasting strongly with the dark brown 
color of their parents’ coats, knelt by their hobbled 
mothers. 

The owners of the camels busied themselves in driv¬ 
ing stakes for their tents, while the women occupied 
themselves by arranging the palanquins in which they 
and their little ones traveled on the backs of the camels. 
These palanquins are no more or less than woolen tents 
made of red blankets supported on the camels’ backs by 
a framework of tree branches. The camel’s hump is 
wrapped around by woolen stuffs and on each side of 
the hump a woman sits, surrounded by babies and bundles, 
but protected by the canopy from the sun. 

At some of the oases we passed we saw bronzed, grace¬ 
ful women and girls weaving carpets and ornamenting 
veils and blankets. Two women worked at an upright 
loom. One of these spinners unwound the skeins of 
wool while the other wove, using her fingers as a shuttle. 
Peeping into one of their tents I saw the entire family 
sitting around a wooden dish, into which all dipped, while 
kids and dogs tried to poke their heads between the 
children, eager to have a share in the repast. 

The date palms were the principal trees at these oases. 
Nature, when this land became a desert, yet provided the 
date palm to sustain the life of the desert people. Each 


133 


The American Eagle 

tree yields a hundred pounds or more of dates yearly for 
a century. The green dates taste like unripe persimmons 
but the ripe dates are sugary and delicious. The Arabs 
call the date the bread of the desert and besides using it 
as a main food, feed it also to their camels and dogs. 

It was on March 6th, 1805, that we broke camp and 
began our fifty days’ march across the desert—a journey 
that required all of the American grit we could muster 
to carry on. Hunger and rebellion and the wavering 
of Hamet himself had to be endured, and Arab chiefs 
had continually to be coaxed and bribed. 

There were ten Americans in the party: General 
Eaton, Lieutenant O’Bannon; Mr. Peck, a non-commis¬ 
sioned officer, six marines, and myself. The rest of the 
force was composed of a party of twenty-five cannoniers 
and their three officers; thirty-eight Greek soldiers and 
their two officers; Hamet Bashaw’s company of ninety 
men; and a party of Arab cavalry under the command 
of the Sheiks il Taiib and Mahamet, including footmen 
and camel drivers. Our entire force numbered about four 
hundred and our caravan consisted of one hundred and 
seven camels and a few asses. 

the sheiks rebel 

After a day’s march the first trouble occurred. The 
owners of the camels and horses we had hired demanded 
pay in advance, but General Eaton foresaw that if the 
money were advanced they would be in a position to 
desert if they became dissatisfied, and he refused to 
comply with their demands. They then became mutinous. 
To make matters worse the Sheik il Taiib insinuated to 
them that if they performed their services without get- 


134 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

ting paid, we would be apt to cheat them out of their 
wages. 

General Eaton appealed to Hamet but found him un¬ 
decided and despondent, and at last he made a bold move 
by ordering the Christians to take up their arms and to 
march back to Alexandria, threatening to abandon both 
the expedition and Hamet unless the march proceeded 
forward at once. The expedition was resumed. 

After we had marched about seventy-five miles through 
low sand valleys and rocky, desert plains, a courier met 
us, sent to us by some of Harriet’s friends at Derne. He 
informed us that the province was arming to assist our 
cause. 

We chanced to be near the ruins of a castle of Greek 
design. Because of the good news the Arabs entertained 
us with feats of horsemanship, firing their rifles as they 
rode. This sport, however, came close to bringing on a 
serious disaster. Our Arabs, who were on foot and who 
were yet at a distance, bringing up the baggage, heard 
the firing and thought that we had been attacked by wild 
Arabs of the desert. Thereupon they attempted to dis¬ 
arm and put to death the Christians who were in their 
party. One old Arab, however, advised them to post¬ 
pone the slaughter until they learned the cause of the 
firing. This counsel they heeded, and the lives of the 
Christians were saved. 

One night, not long after, a musket, a bayonet, cart¬ 
ridges, and all of our stores of cheese were stolen from 
one of our tents by the Arabs. 

When we had reached an ancient castle in the desert 
called by the Arabs, Masroscan, another rebellion oc¬ 
curred. Here we found vestiges of old walls, gardens, 
and mansions that showed that people of refined tastes 



“WE ARE BOUND ACROSS THIS GLOOMY DESERT TO LIBERATE 
THREE HUNDRED AMERICANS FROM THE CHAINS OF 
BARBARISM.” —General Eaton. 















* 
















137 


The American Eagle 

had lived there in the dim past. Now a few Arab fam¬ 
ilies lived in tents among the ruins. Here and there were 
patches of wheat and barley, and miserable cattle, sheep, 
goats, and fowl searched the ground for sustenance. 

We learned that the Bashaw had directed the caravan 
to proceed only to as far as this place, and that its owners 
had received no part of their promised pay. General 
Eaton’s cash was low, but he managed to borrow one 
hundred and forty dollars among the Christian officers 
and men, and turned over to Hamet Bashaw six hundred 
and seventy-three dollars, with which he settled the 
claims of the chiefs of the caravan. Upon this they 
agreed to march two days more, but in the night all these 
camel-drivers withdrew and turned their camels towards 
Egypt. 

Hamet Bashaw favored leaving the baggage at the 
castle and marching on in the hope of hiring other camels, 
but, since we were now without cash, General Eaton re¬ 
jected this advice, as it would mean proceeding without 
provisions and with no money to obtain fresh supplies. 

Then the mischief-maker, Sheik il Taiib, reinforced 
by other sheiks, declared that they would proceed no 
farther until we had sent forward a messenger to learn if 
our American warships were awaiting our arrival at 
Bomba, a sea-coast town on the route to Derne. These 
chiefs had heard that an army of cavalry and foot sol¬ 
diers had been sent from Tripoli to the defence of Derne, 
and they wanted assurances that our navy was at hand to 
help us against them. 

“We will delay for no messenger!” General Eaton de¬ 
clared, “as long as you halt here I will stop your 
rations.” 

To his companions he said: “If they persist in their 


138 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

course, we will seize the castle, fortify ourselves, and 
send word to our fleet to send a naval expedition to our 
relief!” 

Then he added: “We have marched a distance of two 
hundred miles through an inhospitable waste of world, 
but we are bound across this gloomy desert on pursuits 
vastly different from those which lead fanatics to Mecca; 
we go to liberate three hundred Americans from the 
chains of barbarism!” 

On the next morning we found that General Eaton’s 
firm stand had had its effect, for fifty camels were re¬ 
assembled by the sheiks and the march was resumed. 
After traveling twenty-five miles we came to a high, 
green place by the sea where three tribes of Arabs, num¬ 
bering four thousand, lived. Around them were vast 
herds of camels, horses, cattle, and countless flocks of 
sheep and goats. 

We were the first Christians these wild people had 
ever seen. They laughed at our dress, but showed great 
respect towards our officers. Our polished arms filled 
them with amazement, and the gold lace on the General’s 
hat, and his epaulettes, buttons and spurs awed them. 
They thought that the ornaments were gold and silver, 
and expressed astonishment that God should permit 
people, who followed what they called the religion of the 
devil, to possess such riches. They offered us for sale 
whatever food or articles they possessed, including sucfy 
rarities as young gazelles and ostriches. They offered us 
also dates that had been brought in a five days' journey 
from the interior of Africa. We desired to buy all that 
was offered, but, we had only our rice to trade for their 
products, which greatly restricted our purchasing power. 


The American Eagle 139 

Here we found water in plenty, the rain having been 
caught and preserved in natural caverns of rock. 

These Arab tribes had never seen bread. When we 
offered them hard biscuit, they broke it with their shep¬ 
herds' clubs or their hatchets and tasted it gingerly, but 
then, liking the taste, they begged us for more. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE DESERT GIRL 


A TTRACTED by the sound of a drum, beating 
rhythmically and unceasingly, we strolled after 
sunset to the entrance of an Arab tent. Old women, with 
straggling hair and wizened faces, and with eyes ablaze 
with excitement, were pounding the drum. The tent was 
thronged with young men and women, who watched 
tensely and eagerly the dancers in their center. Only 
young women were dancing. The dance was in honor of 
a holy man, and was called the djdib. 

Women, urged on by the drum and by the cries of the 
spectators, whirled and swayed. Their heads rocked 
from side to side like tree-tops in a tempest. The spirit 
of the dance had taken possession of them and urged 
them on until there was no more strength left in their 
lithe bodies. 

They danced until they became exhausted, then others 
threw aside their scarves and renewed the dance. 

I saw a golden-haired girl of about fifteen standing 
among the tawny Arab girls. The contrast between her 
quiet beauty and the bold charms of her companions 
drew the attention of all of the members of our party. 
I pointed her out to General Eaton. He began to wonder 
aloud as to whether she was one of the Circassian race, 
brought down from the mountains by Arabian bandits in 
some raid, or whether she was of Anglo-Saxon stock. 
“She must be a Circassian,” he concluded, “it is unbe- 

140 


The Desert Girl 


141 

lievable that an English or American girl should be 
owned by this desert tribe!” 

An old woman poked her hatchet-shaped face into that 
of the young girl. 

“Go and dance! All these years you have been under 
the protection of Allah. Who is this Nazarene—that 
you place him above Mohammed and his saints? Go 
and dance. Give your spirit to the djinn! May Allah 
wither your budding beauty if you refuse to worship his 
saint in the dance!” 

She seized the young girl by her thick sash and pulled 
her into the center. The band of ribbon that had bound 
her golden hair became loose; her hair poured like a 
flood of gold over her shoulders. She stood trembling 
amidst the wild dancers, some of whom, in their frenzy, 
were digging her with their sharp elbows. 

The drum beat insistently, but the girl did not obey its 
urge to dance. She stood trembling, and now she raised 
her eyes towards us with a pleading that roused us to 
interfere. 

General Eaton motioned to a sheik. 

“We would not interrupt the dance, or offend the hos¬ 
pitality of this tent in any way. But that girl seems to 
be of our blood, and the dance is strange to her. Would 
it not offend the marabout in whose honor you dance to 
have a Nazarene take part? What is worship of the 
hands and feet if the heart is not submissive too? I 
pray you, permit the girl to withdraw.” 

The young Arabs cast hostile glances at us, but the 
sheik was good-natured and was expecting rich gifts 
from the general. He called the girl to him. She came 
quickly. He spoke to her in Arabic, and she withdrew 
to an alcove. 


142 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

“She is an adopted daughter of our tribe,” he ex¬ 
plained. 

The famine lay heavily upon this people. Perhaps it 
was due to the biscuits we offered this tribe that our in¬ 
terference with their ceremony was not hotly resented. 
Perhaps, indeed, the famine was responsible for their 
next move. 

An old woman came out of the alcove that had hidden 
the girl and came directly to General Eaton. “The fair¬ 
haired one is a trouble to me,” she said. “We have given 
her food and shelter for many years, yet when we speak 
to her of marriage, she weeps. When we tell her that 
we will sell her to become a dancing-girl in the bazaars 
and cafes if she will not wed one of our young men, she 
threatens to kill herself! Lovelier damsels than she have 
gone into the harem, happy to have a lord who will keep 
them from want. And there are worse lives than to 
dance at the fantasias of rich men, and to win the ap¬ 
proval of the cafes. The girl is ungrateful and a burden 
to us. Our own children are starving. Give us money 
to buy food and take the unthankful girl!” 

“Let the girl be summoned,” said the general. She 
came forth, glancing from the Sheik Abdullah to General 
Eaton with fear in her eyes. 

“My girl,” said the general through an interpreter, 
“these people have offered you for sale. My purpose in 
buying you would be to find you a good home, where you 
will be brought up in the way of people of your color and 
race. Do you consent?” She looked at him as if she 
could not believe her ears, then sobbed, then nodded 
earnestly. 

“Done!” thundered the general, “I call on Sheik Ab¬ 
dullah to witness that the offer has been made and ac- 


The Desert Girl 


143 


cepted. I shall be liberal, too! Tell me what price such 
girls bring at the slave-market in Murzuk and it shall 
be paid.” 

The money was poured into the old hag’s outstretched 
palms. The members of her family gathered round to 
gloat over it. The young Arabs laughed at the prospect 
of food. The departure of the girl in our company did 
not cause them the slightest concern. Maidens are held 
cheaply in the Sahara. A swift camel is worth more 
than a girl. What value has a Nazarene maiden com¬ 
pared with food for one’s own famished children? 

The general, to shield the girl as much as possible from 
the curious soldiers, gave her a tent where she dwelt 
alone, watched over by an old Nubian woman who had 
become attached to our party in Egypt and had been 
taken along for her value as a cook. 

The general told a group of us briefly that the girl 
remembered little of her early life. There was a vague 
remembrance of a mother who had lived among these 
dark people. There came a day when she went out of 
her life and a scolding Arab woman took her place. 

The girl and her black servant traveled on donkeys. 
A young sheik, a friend of the sheik, who had sold the 
girl to our party, joined Hamet’s forces at this village. 
I wondered if he had planned to add the maiden to his 
circle of wives. 

HAMET BASHAW LOSES HIS TEMPER 

A courier from Derne met us here with news that 
Joseph’s army was approaching Derne. This caused a 
panic among our Arabs, and even Hamet seemed to be 
in doubt as to whether it were wise to proceed. I was 


144 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

forming a rather low opinion of his bravery, but tried 
to lose such thoughts by thinking that if he were a hun¬ 
dred times less a man he would be better than his brother. 
Some of the camel drivers fled. We heard, too, that 
many of Hamet’s followers were planning to turn back. 
General Eaton again stopped their rations and ordered 
that no food be served them until they marched forward. 
The general had a lion’s heart and was a born leader. 
Obstacles like these only served to bring out his firm 
qualities. 

The Sheik il Taiib was again the center of the revolt, 
since he had resolved to go no farther until news ar¬ 
rived that our vessels were awaiting us at Bomba. When 
General Eaton reproached him for his want of courage 
and fidelity, he flew into a rage and put himself at the 
head of such Arabs as would follow him, which was 
about half of our force, and started back to Egypt. 
Hamet begged General Eaton to send an officer to pacify 
him and persuade him to return, but the General refused. 

“We have paid him for his services,” he declared, “and 
we have a right to expect that he be faithful to his 
pledge; I will not permit him to dictate measures to us!” 

“But he may take part against us,” pleaded frightened 
Hamet. 

“Let him do it,” the general answered, “I like an open 
enemy better than a treacherous friend!” 

We continued our march. Messengers then arrived 
from the rebellious sheik, assuring us that he was really 
on his way back to Egypt. 

The general sent word back to him: “I will take vig¬ 
orous steps for the recovery of the cash and property 
you have drawn from me by fraud!” 

In a few hours a new messenger arrived with the in- 


The Desert Girl 


145 

formation that the Sheik il Taiib would join us if we 
halted to await his coming. 

At last his caravan hove in sight. 

“You see/’ he said to the general, to mask his defeat, 
“what influence I have among these people!” 

“Yes,” returned the general, “and I see also the dis¬ 
graceful use you make of it!” 

On the next day, the sheik having been quieted for a 
time, Hamet himself again showed signs of turning 
back. Separating his Moslem party from us, he took 
from our officers the horses he had loaned us for the 
passage through the desert. When General Eaton re¬ 
proached him for his indecision and lack of perseverance, 
high words followed. We marched on; Hamet turned 
back, but after two hours had passed he rejoined us, 
complimented the general on his firmness, and said that 
he had been forced to pretend that he was falling in 
with the wishes of his people, so that he might in the 
end manage them. 

The next day brought the same daily measure of 
trouble. Several sheiks quarreled with Sheik il Taiib 
over the distribution of the money that Hamet had paid 
them, and had quitted camp. We could not proceed 
without them because they exercised a powerful influ¬ 
ence over the Arab tribes near Derne, whose support we 
were counting on. Hamet rode after them to persuade 
them to be loyal to us, and in his absence Sheik il Taiib 
took the stage again, demanding that the general issue 
more rations. 

“Remember,” he said threateningly, “You are in a 
desert, and a country not your own! I am a greater 
man here than you or the Bashaw!” 

The general retorted: “I have found you at the head 


146 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

of every commotion which has happened since we left 
Alexandria. You are the cause of the present trouble 
among the chiefs. Leave my tent! But mark: if I find 
a mutiny in the camp I will put you to death as the man 
who produced it.” 

The sheik left the tent and rode away with other 
chiefs. A few hours later, however, he returned and 
swore that he was devoted to the general; that some 
secret enemy had told lies about him; that he would 
even abandon the Bashaw to follow us; and hoped that 
at Derne he would have the opportunity to show that he 
was a man. 

Our next halt came when some of the Arab chiefs in¬ 
sisted on riding off to an oasis called Seewauk for a sup¬ 
ply of dates. They promised to rejoin our party at 
Bomba. We halted to discuss the matter. 

While this matter was being debated we visited an 
Arab camp nearby. We found that the young men and 
women, although copper-colored, were handsome and 
well-formed. The women did not veil, and were modest 
and bashful in their deportment. The general compli¬ 
mented the wife of the chief on her beauty. She smiled 
and said there were more beautiful women in camp than 
herself and brought in a group of girls to prove it. But 
the general gallantly held to his first opinion. 

Our soldiers were fond of dates, and to secure them 
from the girls they gave as payment the buttons on their 
uniforms, which the women strung as ornaments about 
their necks. 

We were fortunate enough to see a marriage in the 
Arab camp. Two camels bearing canopies resembling 
wagon tops covered with Smyrna carpeting, passed along, 
to the noise of volleys of muskets. The bride and groom 


The Desert Girl 


147 


rode separately in these canopies, attended by elderly 
women, adult unmarried girls, and by mounted Arabs. 

The women chanted a savage kind of song; the men 
performed daring feats of horsemanship, and young men 
and girls danced between the camels. In this manner 
they circled their tents and our encampment. Then the 
camel carrying the bride was driven seven times around 
a tent that had been assigned to her. The animal was 
then made to kneel, the door of the canopy was opened, 
and the bride was pitched headfirst into the tent, where 
her women companions were reciting a benediction. 

We were told that presents were expected. We gave 
a little money to an old Arab woman who had taken the 
leading part in the celebration, supposing her to be the 
mother of the bride. The general also invited an Arab 
of about fifty-five years to his tent to receive an extra 
present of provisions. Upon questioning the Arab as to 
the ages of the bride and groom, we learned that he him¬ 
self was the groom; that the bride was a girl of thirteen 
years; and that the woman we had supposed to be her 
mother was another wife of the groom. 

THE ALLIES QUARREL 

Now arose a crisis that threatened more than any of 
the previous ones the success of our movement. Indeed, 
even the lives of all of the Christian members of the 
expedition were at stake. When we had reached a spot 
about ninety miles from Bomba, we found ourselves 
facing a famine. We had only six days’ rations of rice, 
no bread nor meat, nor other ration. General Eaton was 
therefore anxious that we move forward to Bomba as 
swiftly as possible, but Hamet, while the general was out 
of camp, ordered the expedition to halt and announced 


j 


148 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

that the troops needed a day’s rest. The reason for his 
act, we learned, was that he might send a courier to see 
if our ships were indeed awaiting us at Bomba. 

The general stopped the rations when he found that 
his army had halted, and Hamet, influenced by his Arab 
hosts, prepared again to march in a direction away from 
Derne. The Arabs tried to seize the weapons of the 
Christians, and General Eaton promptly called us to 
arms. We stood in a row before the magazine tent, 
guarding our guns from those who would use them to 
slaughter us. When the crowd had fallen back, the gen¬ 
eral ordered us to proceed with our daily drill. Seeing 
this, an Arab chief shouted: 

“The Christians are preparing to fire on us!” 

Hamet put himself at their head, with drawn sword, 
as if he feared that such was our intention. 

General Eaton stood firmly facing the threatening host 
of Turks and Arabs. Around him clustered a little 
group: O’Bannon, Peck, Farquhar, Leitensdorfer, Selem 
Aga, the Greek officers, and myself. I tried my best to 
keep the gun in my hand from shivering, but the more 
I tried the more my hand trembled. Two hundred 
mounted Turks and Arabs advanced in full charge 
against us. The end was in sight. We leveled our mus¬ 
kets. I thought of Alexander and the Rector and said a 
prayer. 

“Do not shoot until all hope of peace is gone—then 
sell your lives dearly!” General Eaton said. 

The charging Arabs swerved and withdrew, but when 
we began to breathe more freely, they came closer, and 
this time we could see them selecting us as their targets. 
It did not seem that any of us Christians could survive 
five minutes longer. An Arab youth snapped a pistol at 


The Desert Girl 


149 


my breast. Providentially it missed fire. If one bullet 
had been fired, war to the death between the two sides 
would have resulted. A moment later we heard the com¬ 
mand of “fire!” ring out from among the Arabs. 

“At the first shot, give them a volley!” General Eaton 
ordered. 

At this critical instant, one of Hamet’s officers ran 
out towards the mutineers and cried: “For God’s sake, 
do not fire! The Christians are our friends!” 

Then the general, although a column of muskets was 
aimed at his breast, approached Hamet and demanded of 
him how he could support such desperate acts. The 
Bashaw wavered. A chorus of furious whoops from the 
Arabs drowned the general’s voice. He waved his hand 
as a signal for attention. In response, some of the more 
kindly disposed chiefs rode before the Arabs with drawn 
sabres and ordered the infuriated tribesmen to fall back. 

The general again reproached Hamet for his weakness, 
and even Hamet’s chief officer asked the Bashaw if he 
had lost his senses. The latter, in a fury, struck his 
officer with his drawn sabre. The fracas began again and 
had nearly reached its former heat when General Eaton 
seized Hamet by the arm and drew him away from his 
people. 

“Can it be,” the general exclaimed, “that you have for¬ 
gotten who your true friends are, and where your in¬ 
terests lie?” 

Hamet melted. He called the general his protector 
and friend; lamented that he lost his temper so easily, 
and ordered the Arabs to disperse. 

General Eaton agreed to issue a ration of rice if the 
Bashaw promised march would be resumed early the 
next morning. This pledge was made and peace re- 


150 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

turned. Then we saw a sorry sight. At least two of 
the white men had acted like cowards and had hidden 
themselves among the tents. They now came slinking 
forth to stammer excuses that, you may be sure, were 
received stonily by us. We again went forward, but 
after we had marched twenty-five miles our rice be¬ 
came exhausted, and we were now without rations. 

With starvation threatening us, Hamet killed a camel, 
and also gave one in exchange for sheep, that were also 
slaughtered. The meat, however, had to be eaten with¬ 
out bread or salt. As we went on the hunger increased, 
and we saw the Arabs searching the plain for roots and 
vegetable substances on which they might subsist. A 
water famine was almost always with us. At one time 
we were obliged to drink from a cistern in which we had 
found the bodies of two murdered Arabs. 

For the first time in my life I realized the meaning of 
such passages of Scripture as: 

“The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not want. 

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; 

He leadeth me beside the still waters/’ 

While facing yet another insurrection, this time of the 
gunners, a courier arrived from Bomba with the news 
that our ships were off both that place and Derne. This 
gave us new strength and courage and ended the mutiny, 
and so at last we came to Bomba. 

There, however, we found that the vessel that had 
been seen had departed. The fat was in the fire again, 
with the Arabs abusing us as impostors and infidels and 
threatening to leave us, if they did nothing worse. 

But oh, the resourcefulness of our general! With¬ 
drawing with the Christians to a high hill nearby, he 
ordered that a huge fire be kept burning on its crest all 


The Desert Girl 


15 1 

night; the next morning as the Turks and Arabs were 
scattering, to go to their homes, when the end of the 
expedition seemed indeed to be in sight, we saw from 
the top of the hill a sail. The United States’ ship Argus, 
with Captain Hull in command was approaching. The 
next day the sloop Hornet arrived, laden with provisions. 
We then refreshed ourselves and our famished army, and 
unloaded from the Hornet the provisions necessary to 
feed us on the march to Derne. 

The worst of the journey was over. We were ap¬ 
proaching cultivated land. To keep the inhabitants from 
becoming hostile to us the Bashaw sent a herald through 
the camp to cry: 

“He who fears God and feels attachment to Hamet 
Bashaw will be careful to destroy nothing. Let no one 
touch the growing harvest. He who transgresses shall 
lose his right hand!” 

I now heard shrieks from the tent that sheltered the 
girl we had rescued by purchase from the Arabs. I saw 
two camels standing beside the tent, held by a young 
Arab who looked towards us furtively. It flashed across 
my mind that the young sheik whom I had suspected of 
an intention to add the girl to his household had seized 
upon the moment when we were engaged in putting 
down a rebellion to kidnap the girl. I rushed to the tent, 
followed by an Arab lad Mustapha, who also came from 
the girl’s village, and who had shown an humble devotion 
to her by daily giving to the negress for the maiden a 
share of his ration of dates. 

As we reached the door of the tent the sheik emerged 
with the girl in his arms. I jabbed the point of my pistol 
into his face while Mustapha plunged earthward in an 
effort to stay his strides toward the camels. The lad’s 


152 Pirate Princes and Yankee jacks 

attack was so vigorous that the sheik sprawled face 
downward into the sand, while the girl, released by his 
stumble, fell into my arms for support. 

She was pale with terror and leaned against me like a 
broken lily. General Eaton, having pacified Hamet and 
his supporters, came dashing between me and the kid¬ 
napper, who had seized his knife and risen to his feet. 
I still menaced him with my pistol, but the general for¬ 
bade me to fire. 

“He richly deserves death,” he whispered, taking in at 
a glance the situation, “but to fire a shot would cause a 
general battle and the defeat of our plans.” He then 
turned to the scowling chief. 

“Mount your camel and go,” he said. “Hamet Bashaw 
wants no one in his ranks who, under pretense of loyalty 
to a cause, comes to steal a girl who despises him.” 

The Arab, without replying, mounted his camel and 
rode away with his attendant. We saw a small group 
detach themselves from the main body and follow him. 

“A good riddance!” the general muttered. Then, see¬ 
ing Mustapha, he delighted the youth by saying, “You, 
my boy, are worth a hundred such fellows!” 

The Nubian woman, who had been choked into insen¬ 
sibility, now staggered out of the tent and relieved me 
of my burden—one that I was none too glad to surrender. 

The girl murmured something to me in Arabic as she 
re-entered the tent, including Mustapha in her glance. 
I looked at him questioningly. 

“She said,” the lad explained, “that her heart is over¬ 
flowing with gratitude to you and myself for rescuing 
her.” 

General Eaton ordered that the maiden’s tent be con¬ 
tinually guarded after that. I managed to be selected for 


The Desert Girl 


153 


sentinel duty more often than anyone else. Mustapha 
also stood guard with me. The girl sat in the door of her 
tent looking up to the stars. With Mustapha interpret¬ 
ing, we chatted. I told her about America and Baltimore 
and assured her that once she was out of the desert, a 
happy life would open for her. She asked shy questions 
about the girls of the United States—what they wore; 
how they occupied themselves. I heard her and the 
Nubian woman laughing when I said, rather abruptly, 
that I had not paid attention to the looks and habits of 
girls at home. I taught her a few words of English— 
“America,” “ship,” “friend,” “good morning,” and “good 
night.” 

When we reached Derne, a few days after the en¬ 
counter I have described took place, the girl went aboard 
one of the American warships. The last I saw of her 
was when she stepped timidly into a cutter, assisted by 
General Eaton. I stood on the shore watching. I saw 
her glancing back at the shore and I am sure I saw a mo¬ 
tion of her hand in response to my furious waving. From 
that hour I began thinking of home more than I had ever 
thought of it before. And Mustapha and I, when we 
walked back to our tents, never spoke a word to each 
other the whole way. 


CHAPTER XV 


REUBEN JAMES SAVES DECATUR’S LIFE 

T HE fleet had not been idle while we fought our way 
across the desert. Letters awaited us at Bomba, 
brought us by one of the naval vessels. A long epistle, 
with a thrill in every paragraph, was the combined work 
of Samuel Childs and Reuben James. It gave an ac¬ 
count of the gallant way in which Reuben saved his idol 
Stephen Decatur’s life in a hand-to-hand conflict be¬ 
tween the crews of our gunboats and those of the cor¬ 
sairs. The part describing Reuben’s part was written by 
Samuel, and bore in the margin a sentence of protest 
scrawled by the modest Reuben. Here is the story as 
I gleaned it: 

The gunboats were sent in to attack the enemy’s fleet 
in two divisions, one led by Stephen Decatur and the 
other by Richard Somers. The Moslems were past 
masters of this art of boarding. Decatur and Somers 
were therefore leading their men to do battle with these 
ferocious fighters under severe handicaps. 

Our habit of boarding dismayed Joseph. He had 
thought that his men were invincible in a fight on a 
ship’s deck. 

The mode of attack used by the corsairs was always 
by boarding. Their vessels were so made that it was 
easy for them to go on board an enemy. Their lateen 
yards were so long that they projected over the deck of 
the vessel approached. The infidels used these as a 


i54 


Reuben James Saves Decatur’s Life 155 

passageway from their vessel to the prize. Then, from 
all points of their riggings and from all quarters of their 
decks, the pirates would leap on board the attacked ship. 
That they might have free use of their hands in climb¬ 
ing the gunwales of the vessel, they carried their sabres 
grasped between their teeth, and had loaded pistols in 
their belts. As they swarmed aboard, thus armed, they 
were a terrifying sight. They were taught by their re¬ 
ligion that if they died in battle with Christians their 
salvation was assured, so they fought desperately. But 
Joseph, scornful of America, without knowing what 
fighters her sons were, now found his fiercest warriors 
slain by men who could board ship and give battle on 
deck with even more strength and bravery than his own 
captains. 

Decatur, who had charge of the foremost three boats, 
had to bear the brunt of the fighting. Opposed to his 
three boats were nine Tripolitan boats, well armed and 
crowded with men. 

Reuben James was in Decatur’s boat. The first gun 
Decatur fired was loaded with a thousand musket balls 
in a bag. The shot wrought terrific damage on board the 
vessel selected for the attack. The captain fell dead 
with fourteen of the musket balls lodged in his body. 
Thus far Captain Decatur had had easy work. 

Lieutenant James Decatur, Stephen’s brother, had com¬ 
manded the second boat. He had been treacherously 
slain. The Moor in charge of the boat he attacked 
hauled down its flag at the first fire. James Decatur then 
directed his men to board, but as his boat approached the 
Tripolitan craft, the cunning captain shot Decatur dead, 
and while the dismayed Americans gathered around 
their leader, the Moor hauled off his boat. 


156 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

News soon reached Stephen of the loss of his brother 
and away he went in vengeful pursuit of the slayer of 
James. He overhauled the boat and led his men aboard 
in a fierce charge. Reuben was at his heels. The Moor¬ 
ish captain was a powerful brute; he had all the weapons 
a man could carry, and he was as desperate as a treed 
wildcat. 

Stephen Decatur, however, went at his huge foe in a 
way that meant death either to the Moor or himself. The 
infidel met Decatur’s rush with his pike, while Decatur 
depended on his sword. Reuben James was busy dis¬ 
posing of an infidel. Before he tackled another, he 
looked to see what headway the captain was making. 
Imagine how taken aback he was to see Decatur stag¬ 
gering back from a pike stab in the breast. He slashed 
his way towards his leader, but, as luck would have it, 
a shot lodged in his right hand and a moment later a 
jab from a spear disabled his left arm. 

Meanwhile Decatur, nothing daunted by his wound, 
had brought his sword into play. The blade, meeting a 
savage blow from the pike, broke off at the hilt. Reuben 
saw Decatur dart in past the Moor’s weapon, and grapple 
with him. An Arab sneaked up in the captain’s rear 
and aimed a blow at his head. Reuben then threw his 
own disabled body between Decatur and his second foe. 
The blow landed on his head, and he sank to the deck 
crippled and half senseless. He could see Decatur and 
the Moorish captain fall to the deck, with the infidel on 
top. The Moor had one arm free and with it he drew 
a knife. Reuben closed his eyes. Then he heard a shot 
and opened them again. In Decatur’s hand was a smok¬ 
ing pistol, and the slayer of his brother lay dead at the 
captain’s feet. 


Reuben James Saves Decatur’s Life 157 

From the rest of the letter I gathered facts that gave 
me a fair idea of the progress of the campaign. 

The third boat in Decatur’s division was commanded 
by John Trippe, sailing master. Trippe killed a Moorish 
captain in much the same manner as Decatur slew his 
adversary. As he led his men across the side of a 
Tripolitan vessel, his own boat was swept away from the 
side before all of his party could board. Thus Trippe, 
with another officer and nine men, was left to face 
thirty-six infidels. Trippe determined, as his one hope 
of victory, to kill the captain, a man of great height and 
strength. He came as near to death as did Decatur, re¬ 
ceiving eleven wounds. At last, when the Moor had 
forced him down so that he was fighting with one knee 
on deck, he caught his foe off guard and stabbed him to 
death with a pike. Fourteen of the infidels had been slain 
by the Americans and the remaining twenty-two now sur¬ 
rendered. None of the Americans were killed. Richard 
Somers, who commanded the other three boats, was pre¬ 
vented from following Decatur along the inside route 
he took, yet he found means to capture three Moorish 
gunboats and to sink three others. 

Reuben James passes out of my story here, but it is 
due him that I skip several years and tell how when doc¬ 
tors were about to amputate, because an old wound had 
diseased a bone in his leg, he exclaimed: “Doctor, you 
are the captain, Sir. Fire away; but I don’t think it is 
shipshape to put me under jury masts when I have just 
come into harbor.” 

From other correspondence we learned how Commo¬ 
dore Preble, while his gunboats were thus engaged, sailed 
into the harbor on board the Constitution, with Captain 
Chauncey in command, and bombarded the forts. The 


* 


158 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

ship was excellently handled. Her crew tacked and 
made sail under the guns of the enemy with as much 
coolness and skill as if there were no guns trained on 
them. Several times the Constitution passed within three 
cables’ length of the batteries on shore, and silenced them. 
But the moment the frigate passed on, the silenced bat¬ 
teries were manned again. The monarch had thousands 
of soldiers at his command and continued to drive fresh 
gunners to the batteries. 

On another day a Tripolitan fleet of five gunboats and 
two galleys came out to attempt to capture or destroy 
certain gunboats of the American fleet lying near the 
harbor. Commodore Preble signaled to the brigs and 
schooners under his command to meet the raiders, and 
these ships poured such a hot fire upon the Moslem 
flotilla that they were forced to turn back. 

The grape-shot fired by the Americans during these 
engagements swept the enemy’s decks of men, and wor¬ 
ried the gunmen on shore so badly that it spoiled their 
aim, so that the Constitution was but slightly damaged, 
and had none killed and only one man wounded. 

THE DEATH OF SOMERS 

Now, came news of the tragedy of the campaign. 
It was decided to use the ketch Intrepid as a fireship to 
destroy the enemy’s shipping. Captain Somers volun¬ 
teered to take command of her, and Lieutenant Wads¬ 
worth volunteered to go with him. Ten men went with 
them—six volunteers from the Constitution and four 
volunteers from the Nautilus. Two small boats were 
taken, so that the party could escape from the floating 
mine after they had lighted the fuses. The Intrepid 
started upon her perilous duty on September 4th. Lieu- 


Reuben James Saves Decatur’s Life 159 

tenant Joseph Israel of the Constitution arrived at the 
moment of getting under way and asked permission to 
go along. Somers consented. 

The night was dark, and the other American ships 
soon lost sight of the ketch. She was discovered, how¬ 
ever, by the Tripolitans as she was entering the harbor, 
and their batteries opened fire. 

Suddenly, the night was lit by terrifying flashes. A 
series of explosions shook land and water. A shower 
of sparks arose. The powder on board the Intrepid had 
prematurely exploded, and left nothing on the face of 
the harbor but scorched fragments. All of her officers 
and men were killed. Their mangled bodies floated 
ashore and were found by the people of Tripoli. 

What caused the explosion remains a mystery. Com¬ 
modore Preble thought that the Intrepid had been at¬ 
tacked and boarded by a Tripolitan gun-boat, and that 
Captain Somers, rather than be taken captive, himself 
exploded the powder; or else that the fire from the bat¬ 
teries caused so much damage that Somers saw that escape 
was impossible and chose death to surrender. This 
reasoning was partly based on the fact that Somers and 
his men had boasted that they would die rather than be 
captured. The squadron was greatly affected by this 
tragedy. Decatur had special reason to grieve, because 
Somers had been his schoolmate, and had given Decatur, 
before sailing, tokens to remember him by if he did not 
return. 

I learned with amazement that Commodore Preble had 
been recalled. Although he had conducted a fight that 
had won for the American navy lasting glory, the navy 
department had thought it best to call him home and to 
put Commodore Samuel Barron, who was his senior, in 


160 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

his place. Commodore Preble was notified of this with 
much praise and apology. No wonder was it that his 
going was lamented. His fifty-three officers joined in a 
letter of regret. English officers praised his work. The 
Pope said that “the American commander, with a small 
force and in a short space of time, had done more for 
the cause of Christianity than the most powerful nations 
of Christendom had done for ages/' 

The Commodore had labored under great handicaps. 
Congress had not supported his requests for ships and 
supplies, and those that came were long delayed. The 
food sent him was poor. He was forced to depend 
largely on foreign seamen. 

Commodore Preble was deeply regretful at not being 
able to carry the campaign against Tripoli through to 
final victory, and also mortified that, with success in 
sight, he should be recalled. He went home an almost 
heartbroken man, although his record must stand out as 
one of the most brilliant in our naval history. 

If the bold Preble had continued in command of the 
squadron, there is little doubt that when he saw what 
Eaton was doing at Derne he would have begun an at¬ 
tack on Tripoli that would have brought Joseph Bashaw 
to his knees. 

The one good reason advanced as to why General 
Eaton’s expedition should have ended at Derne was that 
if it approached Tripoli, the Americans held prisoners 
there might have been killed by Joseph Bashaw when 
his city was attacked. He threatened that, in an ex¬ 
tremity, he would slay the prisoners. Several of the 
officers who were in captivity held this fear. Yet Com¬ 
modore Rodgers wrote afterwards to the Secretary of 
the Navy: 


Reuben James Saves Decatur’s Life 161 

“I never thought myself that the lives of the Ameri¬ 
can prisoners were in any danger.” Lieutenant Wormely, 
a midshipman held in captivity, also testified before a 
Senate committee that: “I do not believe that there was 
any danger to be apprehended for our lives.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


WE CAPTURE THE DESERT CITY OF DERNE 

“An army, composed in part of Americans, but 
chiefly of the descendants of the ancient Grecians , 
Egyptians and Arabians; in other words, an army 
collected from the four quarters of the globe, and led by 
an American commander to conquest and glory, is a 
phenomenon in military history calculated to attract 
the attention of the world, not only by its novelty, but 
by its real influence and consequence. It ought to 
be considered, too, that this army, notwithstanding the 
singularity of its organization and character, and the 
smallness of its number and its means, acted in a 
cause that might be thought to aflect, at least in some 
remote degree, the general interest of mankind. Since 
the destruction of Cato, and his little senate at TJtica, 
the banner of freedom had never waved in that desert 
and barbarous quarter of the globe; and he who car¬ 
ried it so nobly, in the language of the resolution, 
through the desert of Libya, and placed it so triumph¬ 
antly upon the African shore of the Mediterranean 
deserves to be honorably distinguished by that country 
and that government, to which the enterprise has 
added lustre.” 

—Speech made by James Elliott, Representative 
from Vermont, before the House of Representatives. 

IT VERY step we took, I could tell by the rector’s map, 
' which now I daily consulted, was taking me to that 
section of the coast where the treasure lay buried. We 
had hard fighting ahead of us, and all of my energies 
were needed to help our cause, yet I was determined to 

162 


We Capture the Desert City of Derne 163 

find enough time to make the search. The problem of 
finding a trustworthy person who could read for me the 
Arabic inscription on the map had been solved through 
my friendship with Mustapha, who had acquired a fair 
education in Egypt. I planned to go to Tokra under 
his guidance. My plans worked out well, but in a dif¬ 
ferent way from that which I proposed. 

The first duty ahead of our army—a task that must be 
done before any treasure hunt could be thought of—was 
the capture of Derne. The city of Tokra lay beyond 
Derne. Our army, if it went on to Tripoli, must pass 
near it. The coast was clear—if Derne were captured by 
us. Little did I think that the ill fortunes of our soldiers 
should send me forth at last to fulfill my long-cherished 
aim. 

Two days after leaving Bomba, we camped on a 
height that overlooks Derne, and reconnoitered. We 
had reached the climax of our march. We learned that 
the governor of the place had decided to defend the city 
against us. We learned also that the army Joseph 
Bashaw had sent from Tripoli was making a forced 
march to Derne and might arrive before the return of 
our vessels, which had been blown out to sea in a gale. 
This information alarmed the Turks and Arabs. Hamet, 
we observed, again seemed to be ready for flight. The 
Sheik il Taiib, who had promised to prove himself a 
valiant man at Derne, quitted the camp. 

Several chiefs came out from Derne to assure Hamet 
of their faith. They told us that the city was divided 
into three departments; that two of these favored 
Hamet and one Joseph, but that the department that 
favored Joseph was strongest and had control of the 
guns. 


V 

164 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

General Eaton had sent a messenger to the governor 
under a flag of truce with this message: 

“I want no territory. With me is advancing the 
real sovereign of your country—give us a passage 
through your city; and for the supplies of which we 
shall have need, you shall receive fair pay. Let no 
differences of religion induce us to shed the blood of 
harmless men who think little and know nothing. If 
you are a man of liberal mind you will not hesitate. 
Hamet Bashaw pledged himself to me that you shall 
be established in your government. I shall see you 
tomorrow in a way of your choice. 

“Eaton.” 

The flag of truce was sent back to the general by the 
governor with this answer: 

“My head or yours!” 

“We shall see whose head it will be!” General Eaton 
declared. 

Having learned that the army from Tripoli was only 
a four hours’ march distant, the general determined to 
attack the city before it had time to arrive. 

On the next morning the Argus, Hornet and Nautilus 
appeared off the coast, and on a signal sailed in toward 
the city. The general at once began the assault. The 
fleet sent a few guns ashore to assist us in the land at¬ 
tack, and then the three vessels opened fire on the city’s 
batteries. 

The Governor of Derne had mounted a battery of 
eight nine-pounders along the water-front; had thrown 
up breastworks along the unprotected parts of the city; 
and had mounted cannon on the terrace of his palace 
and on the roofs of certain buildings. We heard that 



THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME AN AMERICAN FLAG HAD BEEN 
RAISED ON A FORT OF THE OLD WORLD. 


































[We Capture the Desert City of Derne 167 


he possessed an army of eight hundred men, in addition 
to such citizens as would fight with him. 

General Eaton, with a detachment actively commanded 
by Lieutenant O’Bannon, consisting of the six Ameri¬ 
can marines, twenty-four gunners, twenty-six Greeks, 
and a few Arabs, attacked the temporary forts that had 
been thrown up in the southeast section of the town. 
Hamet Bashaw attacked and captured an old castle on 
the southwest, and drew up his cavalry on this site. I 
fought beside the general, and a stiff business it was. 
The enemy’s musketry was so warm that our troops 
were thrown into confusion. To counteract this, the 
general ordered a charge. The enemy had flocked to 
the point where we advanced, so that we had to fight as 
ten to one. The infidels waged a guerrilla warfare, dash¬ 
ing out of their hiding-places and then, in retreat, firing 
from behind every palm tree and wall along their way. 

The battery was at last silenced by the fire of our ships, 
and most of the gunners retired to join the forces op¬ 
posed to us. Yet on we went, passing through a shower 
of bullets from the walls of houses. Soon we reached 
the battery, and wrested it from its defenders. I had 
the honor of planting, amidst cheers from my com¬ 
rades, the American flag on the wall—an honor indeed, 
since this was the first time the American flag had been 
raised on a fort of the old world. Then we turned the 
guns on the infidels and drove them back into the houses, 
where they could only fire at us from behind walls. 

Our ships, which had suspended their fire during our 
charge, now resumed bombarding the houses that shel¬ 
tered the governor and his men. 

The deadly fire of the ships terrified the already 
faint-hearted forces there, and they began to flee in dis- 


168 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

i 

order. Hamet’s troops captured the governor’s castle, 
and his cavalry pursued the flying foe. By four o’clock 
in the afternoon we were in full possession of the city, 
the action having lasted about two hours and a half. Of 
the Christians who fought there were fourteen killed and 
wounded. Three of these were American marines; two 
dead and one wounded. The rest of the dead were 
Greeks. Our Grecian allies showed great bravery and 
were worthy descendants of the ancient heroes of their 
race. 


THE GOVERNOR FLEES 

The governor fled first to a mosque; then to the abode 
of an old sheik. 

“I must lay hold of him!” General Eaton said. “He 
is the third man in rank in the entire kingdom of Tripoli, 
and we can use him to exchange for Captain Bainbridge!” 

The general, in great zeal to take the governor cap¬ 
tive, now marched at the head of fifty Christians with 
bayonets to that remote section in which the fugitive 
had found refuge. The aged chief who sheltered him, 
however, vowed that the laws of hospitality would be 
violated if he permitted us to take the governor, and 
refused to yield him up to us. 

General Eaton explained that the Governor had re¬ 
jected peace terms; had challenged us and been beaten 
at his post; was still in a conquered town, and was by 
all the laws of war a prisoner. The sheik remained firm. 

The citizens of Derne began to look at us with hostile 
eyes. 

“The Christians no longer respect the customs of our 
fathers and our laws of hospitality,” they exclaimed. 

Hamet Bashaw, fearful that the people would be 


[We Capture the Desert City of Derne 169 


turned against him if we seized the governor against the 
old sheik’s wishes, persuaded the general to postpone the 
attempt. 

We had been in possession of Derne about a week 
when the army sent from Tripoli arrived and planted 
their camp on the ground we had occupied. Meanwhile, 
General Eaton had fortified the city as strongly as pos¬ 
sible. 

We found ourselves facing enemies within and foes 
without, because the people of the town, true to their 
nature, were now debating which army would be the 
most likely to win, so that they might be on the victor’s 
side. The late governor, we learned, was the leader in 
trying to persuade the people of the city to revolt against 
us. 

On May 18th the troops from Tripoli advanced towards 
the city in order of battle, but when General Eaton 
marshalled his forces to meet them they halted, con¬ 
ferred, and then retired. We found out later that the 
Beys in charge of the enemy’s forces had tried day after 
day to persuade the Arabs under them to attack. They 
had refused, stating that Joseph Bashaw must send them 
aid before they would attempt to conquer the city. 

“We have,” they said, “not only our lives to preserve, 
but also the lives of our families. Hamet has possession 
of the town; his Christian allies possess the batteries; 
these, together with the great guns of the American 
ships, would destroy us if we attacked 1” 

The Beys then demanded of the Arabs that they per¬ 
mit their camels to be used to protect the front and 
flanks of the assaulting forces, but this too was refused. 

Word came to General Eaton that Hassien Bey, com¬ 
mander of the enemy’s forces, had offered six thousand 


170 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

dollars for his head, and double that sum if he were 
brought as a prisoner. We heard also that thirty dollars 
had been offered for the head of an ordinary Christian. 

Then there came to our camp a Bedouin holy man 
who had previously been befriended by the general. He 
whispered that two women, one in our camp and one in 
Derne, had been employed by Hassien Bey to poison our 
commander. In payment for this service they had al¬ 
ready been given presents of diamond rings. The saint 
cautioned the General not to accept any presents of 
pastry, preserves or fruit. 

A few days later, the forces of Hassien Bey gave 
battle. He was assisted by Muhamed, Bey of Bengazi; 
Muhamed, Bey of Derne, and Imhamed, Bey of Ogna. 
Under them were one thousand mounted Arabs and two 
thousand Arabs on foot. On the night before, Muhamed, 
the former governor of Derne, had escaped into Hassien 
Bey’s camp, and had told him that our numbers on shore 
were far less than the general had supposed. Encour¬ 
aged by this information Hassien Bey ordered the at¬ 
tack. 

About nine o’clock in the morning his troops appeared, 
under five standards, and attacked about one hundred 
of Hamet’s cavalry, who had been stationed about a mile 
from town. The cavalry fought bravely but were forced 
to retreat. The Argus and Nautilus trained their guns 
on the enemy, and we in town bombarded them with our 
battery and field pieces, but by taking advantage of walls 
they penetrated the town up to the palace that sheltered 
Hamet. Here they were met by a hot rifle fire from 
Hamet’s supporters, but they held their ground stub¬ 
bornly, determined to capture Hamet. 

The general was wondering whether with the small 


|We Capture the Desert City of Derne 171 

force in charge of the battery he dare risk a sortie to 
defend Hamet, when fortunately a shot from one of our 
nine-pounders killed two mounted enemies near the 
palace. 

Instantly they sounded a retreat and fled from all 
quarters. Hamet’s cavalry pursued them. In their 
flight they again came within range of our ships’ guns, 
and these poured into their ranks a galling fire. 

We were told later by an Italian slave who escaped 
from their camp that they had lost twenty-eight men 
killed and that fifty-six of their number had been 
wounded by our fire. 

This defeat took the heart out of the Arabs support¬ 
ing the Beys. Officers and soldiers began to desert to us 
from the enemy, and when Hassien Bey began to pre¬ 
pare for another assault by collecting camels that would 
be used as traveling breastworks, the Arabs recruited on 
the march refused to take part. They protested that they 
would have been willing to fight under ordinary circum¬ 
stances, but that the Americans were firing balls that 
would kill both a rider and his horse, and that they would 
not expose themselves to such shots. They also com¬ 
plained that we rushed at them with bayonets, and 
would not give them time to reload their muskets! 

Hearing these reports our fearless general tried to 
persuade Hamet to make a counter-attack, but without 
success. Skirmishes continued to occur. A few days 
after the battle, a company of the enemy attacked some 
Arab families who had camped in the rear of the town. 
Learning of the attack, the general headed a party of 
thirty-five Greeks and Americans, with a view to cut¬ 
ting off their retreat. We met them in a mountain’s 
ravine—the Greeks must have thought of the Spartans 


172 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

at Thermopylae—and charged them with our bayonets. 
They broke and fled, hotly pursued. We killed their 
captain and five men, and took two prisoners. None of 
us were injured. 

This affair put Hassien Bey in a frenzy. The next 
morning he came forward to revenge his cause, but again 
the Arabs mutinied and retreated, leaving Hassien and 
his soldiers to follow in humiliation back to their camp. 

Hamet Bashaw had his turn at open fighting a few 
days later, and acquitted himself far better than we ex¬ 
pected. The enemy appeared in great numbers on the 
heights overlooking the town, seeking a way to descend 
that would not expose them to the fire of our guns. 
They found a pass and started to descend to the plain 
below, but here Hamet’s cavalry met them and, as rein¬ 
forcements joined each side, the battle increased in size 
until there were five thousand men engaged. The fight¬ 
ing lasted four hours, during which Hamet held his 
ground like a true general. It was a battle fought in the 
Barbary style, for the field of conflict was beyond the 
range of our batteries, and we were rejoiced to learn that 
the victory belonged to Hamet. The enemy lost fifty men 
killed, and had over seventy wounded, while of the 
forces of Hamet, the killed and wounded amounted to¬ 
gether to about fifty. We had lost respect for Hamet 
during our march across the desert, but his gallantry in 
this engagement restored confidence. 

Lieutenant O’Bannon was eager to lead our Ameri¬ 
cans and Greeks out to hold the pass by which the enemy 
must retreat with our bayonets, but the general decided 
wisely that it would be unwise to leave the batteries un¬ 
defended, since Hamet Bashaw’s forces might suffer a 
reverse. 


We Capture the Desert City of Derne 173 


THE CAMPAIGN BLOCKED 

Our prolonged stay at Derne had begun to worry 
both the general and Hamet. I saw them frequently con¬ 
ferring with great seriousness, and heard General Eaton 
say that if the aid, money, and supplies had come which 
he hoped would be awaiting him at Derne, he might now 
be at Cape Mensurat, and in fifteen days after, at 
Tripoli. 

My wonder as to what there was being discussed by 
the general and Hamet Bashaw was cleared away some¬ 
what by the arrival of a spy from the enemy’s camp, 
who informed us that a courier had arrived, eleven days 
from Tripoli, with dispatches from the reigning Bashaw 
stating that he intended to make peace with the United 
States, even if he had to sell his wardrobe to do so. This 
was a great change of front; a change caused, we all 
felt sure, by our conquest of Derne, and by our openly 
avowed determination to capture Tripoli in the same 
manner. 

Then there came a letter from Commodore Barron 
which informed General Eaton that the United States 
must withdraw her support from Hamet, since Consul 
Lear was making a peace with Joseph. 

The general wrote hotly in reply: “I cannot be per¬ 
suaded that the abandoning of Hamet is in keeping with 
those principles of honor and justice which I know actu¬ 
ate the national breast. But, if no further aids come, 
and we are compelled to leave the place, humanity itself 
must weep; the whole city of Derne, together with nu¬ 
merous families of Arabs, who attached themselves to 
Hamet Bashaw, and who resisted Joseph’s troops in ex¬ 
pectation of help from us, must be left to their fate; 


174 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

havoc and slaughter must follow; not a soul of them 
can escape the savage vengeance of the enemy; instead 
of lending aid to the unfortunate people, we involve 
them in destruction.” 

The general wrote also in protest to the Secretary of 
the Navy, stating that when Commodore Barron agreed 
to cooperate with Hamet there was no talk of the latter 
being used as a means of making peace with the reign¬ 
ing Bashaw; that nothing was talked of but punishment. 
The example of Commodore Preble, he stated, had fired 
the squadron which relieved him with an ambition to 
punish Joseph, and it was in the same spirit that he, 
General Eaton, was sent on his mission to bring Hamet 
to the rear of the enemy. 

Shortly after these letters were dispatched, we had 
occasion to march through Derne. 

“Long live the Americans! Long live our friends and 
protectors!” the people shouted. 

The general bowed his head in shame. 

General Eaton, in the opinion of all of us who marched 
with him, and of many with whom I afterwards talked, 
could well complain of the way he was treated by the 
United States Government. He had won at Derne a 
victory that many thought was superior to the naval 
victories won over Tripoli, and by his campaign had 
opened the way for a peace that saved the United 
States the payment of hundreds of thousands of dollars 
in warships and tribute money. Yet he had been al¬ 
lowed to enter upon his enterprise in such a manner that 
if successful the Administration would receive full 
credit for sending him, while if he failed, he could be 
blamed for acting without authority. 

At Tripoli, peace was being made after this manner: 


We Capture the Desert City of Derne 175 

Colonel Lear, then at Malta, received a letter from the 
Spanish consul at Tripoli asking him to come to that 
place under a flag of truce, as the Bashaw wanted to dis¬ 
cuss peace. A few weeks later Captain Bainbridge 
wrote to Commodore Barron that the Tripolitan minister 
of foreign affairs, Sidi Mohammed Dghiers, who was op¬ 
posed to the war, was about to leave the city, and that 
it would be well to send an envoy to treat for peace 
before the minister left. 

Colonel Lear sailed from Malta on the Essex, which 
joined the blockading frigates Constitution and Presi¬ 
dent of Tripoli. The white flag hoisted by Lear was 
answered by the hoisting of a similar flag on the Bashaw’s 
castle. The terms agreed upon were that the United 
States was to pay him $60,000 for the ransom of the 
American captives remaining after an exchange of 
prisoners, man for man, had been made; that the Ameri¬ 
can forces should withdraw from Derne, persuading 
Hamet to go with them; and that in the course of time 
Joseph was to restore to Hamet his wife and children. 

The articles were signed on board the Constitution. A 
salute of twenty-one guns was then fired by the Bashaw’s 
battery and answered by the Constitution. The people 
of the city crowded to the wharves celebrating the making 
of peace. The released American officers and sailors 
ran to the wharves to leap into the barges that were to 
take them out of the hated town. 

Sage men have predicted that the historians of the 
future would say that Colonel Lear acted unwisely in 
making the peace, and that if he had delayed for a few 
weeks, until bomb vessels and gunboats on the way from 
America had arrived, a squadron would have assembled 
before Tripoli that would have frightened the Bashaw 


176 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

into agreement with any terms the United States’ fleet 
chose to lay down. That we should have had to pay 
ransom for the American captives at Tripoli after we had 
captured the powerful province of Derne, and with such 
a strong fleet in the Mediterranean, was not in accord 
with American traditions. 

The act of Colonel Lear in making peace with the 
reigning Bashaw seems to have been for the purpose of 
blocking Eaton’s triumph. “Eaton,” said an officer hold¬ 
ing a high place in the Mediterranean squadron, “was 
running away with the honor of the Tripolitan war. Be¬ 
tween an army and navy j ealousy is common. What had 
the navy done long before, after the achievement of 
Preble? Hence the readiness to snatch the first chance 
for peace.” 

The politics of the matter gave me little concern. 
Here was General Eaton needing money. With money 
he could hire Arab tribes, buy caravans loaded with food, 
march on to Tripoli. Here was my opportunity, and 
my duty, 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE TREASURE TOMB 

T HROUGH all my adventures in the desert campaign, 
from the time when we first faced the hot, chok¬ 
ing winds of the desert and covered our eyes to keep 
from being blinded by the sand until the time when we 
lifted the Stars and Stripes on the ramparts of Derne, 
the thought of the treasure tomb had dwelt with me. 
According to the rector’s map, the buried chamber was 
within an hour’s ride by camel of Tokra, a town located 
between Derne and Tripoli, quite near to the former. 

The coast of northern Africa jutted out into the 
Mediterranean at this point, and made it a favorable 
spot for settlement by Phoenicians and earlier races who 
ruled this sea. 

When I perceived that Captain Eaton’s campaign 
against Tripoli had been blocked through lack of funds 
and that he himself had given up hope of receiving from 
our naval officers the money and supplies required to 
proceed against the stronghold of Joseph, I resolved to 
begin my treasure search in earnest, hoping to turn the 
gems and gold to the general’s use. I resolved to take 
Mustapha along as my guide. The attachment that had 
sprung up between us grew stronger as the weeks passed. 
He was an Arab to the backbone. He could run all 
day in the heat and fall asleep at night on bare stones. 
He was as quick and noiseless in his movements as a 


177 


178 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

wildcat, and his mood was a queer mixture of gentle¬ 
ness and fierceness. Having adopted me, he was fiercely 
jealous, and his brown face would become convulsed if 
strange Arab boys from any of the camps we passed 
tried to follow me. 

One night, on swift camels which we borrowed from 
Mustapha’s sheik, we rode away from Derne. It was 
a foolhardy enterprise, because Joseph Bashaw's army 
lay between us and Tokra, yet we managed to avoid their 
outposts and when morning broke we were well beyond 
their lines. 

I had not taken the general into my confidence. He 
might have told me, to keep me from going on what he 
would consider a wild goose chase, that he would not 
avail himself of the gold, even if it were found. I felt 
too, since the rector had tried so hard to keep the facts 
concerning the treasure a secret, that I should not reveal 
it, even to those 1 trusted most. 

We joined ourselves to a caravan as we approached 
Tokra. Mustapha had acquaintances among the camel- 
drivers, and his explanations created for us a kindly re¬ 
ception. Mingling thus with the Arabs, we rode into 
Tokra without attracting the attention of the people. 
That this was fortunate for me, I was soon to find out. 
A larger caravan had entered the town a few hours be¬ 
fore us. Its people had thronged the cafes. As I rode 
through the narrow street, holding my hood well over 
my face to keep from being recognized as a hated 
“Nazarene,” I caught sight of a tall well-dressed Moor 
watching a group of dancing girls. His brilliant robe 
attracted my attention, then something familiar about his 
figure made me observe him more closely. My gaze 
traveled up his burly form to his bearded face. I could 


The Treasure Tomb 


179 

see it only in profile, but the sight was enough to set me 
to trembling. I had recognized Murad. 

He did not see us. In the cafe before which he 
lounged were girls of the Ouled-Nahil tribe, dancing. 
We could see over the heads of the men these stately 
creatures gliding and twisting to the music of clarionets 
and tam-tams. Their mountainous head-gear of plaited 
wool, bound by brilliantly-colored silk kerchiefs shook 
with the movements of their bodies. We could hear 
amidst the music the jingling of their bangles. I saw 
also a boy bring a live coal in a pair of tongs to Murad, 
so that the latter might light his long pipe. 

A score of questions flashed through my mind. Had 
the Egyptian found the treasure, and was he now en¬ 
joying the wealth? Or had he been detained as I was in 
reaching this spot, and could it be that he had been a 
member of the newly arrived caravan? Did he mean 
to spend the night amidst the luxury of the cafe or 
would he soon come forth to hunt for the treasure tomb ? 

I decided from his manner that he had newly arrived, 
and that, for a few hours at least, he would smoke his 
pipe and drink his coffee and watch the dance. During 
those few hours I resolved to push my search. 

When we found a spot in which I could examine the 
map without being observed I was puzzled to find that 
the location of the treasure tomb was set down as being 
not outside of the city, but in its very midst. Through 
Mustapha, I made inquiry of an old Arab. Yes, he said, 
in reply to my questions, there had been a temple there 
once. The reason the ruins could not be seen now was 
that successive tribes of Arabs had come and camped 
on the ruins until the soil and filth they had left behind 
them had covered the floors. There had been walls, but 


180 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

they were now used for sheep folds, goat-yards, poultry- 
yards, donkey-sheds. 

The rector’s exploration had been made also at night. 
The upper tomb he had found was known to everyone. 
It too had probably held riches, but it had been plun¬ 
dered centuries since. None of the later tribes had 
thought to look beneath it. The rector would not have 
had the curiosity to explore if it had not been that in 
Greece a scientist had discovered there double layers of 
tombs hewn out of the rocks. 

Mustapha then translated to me the words written in 
Arabic at the foot of the diagram: 

“Walk along the north wall of the town until there 
rises from the mud-huts and cattle-sheds a stone pillar 
that lifts about eight feet above the surrounding roofs. 
This pillar will mark the location of a tomb that is 
still respected as a holy place by the people of the 
town. Under the floor of this tomb, lies the treasure 
chamber. Its entrance is through the outer wall, 
where I dug out a stone. Pry along south wall below 
ground till triangular slab is found.” 

Past cluster! of mud-huts, dirt-heaps, piles of broken 
pottery, and odorous cattle-sheds we groped. The dogs 
barked and ran snarling about our feet, but Mustapha 
had magic words that soothed and hushed them. At 
last, against the star-filled skies, we saw a rugged pillar 
lift up. The huts and sheds stopped at this point, and 
for several rods there were no buildings. The loneli¬ 
ness of the spot I took as a good omen. It meant that 
I could dig with little fear of disturbance. 

From the town came sounds of singing and shouting. 
Drinking and dancing and merry-making were engaging 
the people. With these unceasing noises drowning the 
clink of our spades, we began to dig. 


The Treasure Tomb 


181 


The dirt and debris was loose, and our arms were 
winged by excitement and fear. I had told Mustapha 
that I expected that he should earn enough money on 
this trip to give him a university education at Fez, 
enough to make him respected as a sheik. Under the 
enchanting prospect, and for love of me, he toiled. 

After ten minutes of digging, I took my dirk and felt 
along the side of the wall which we had uncovered. My 
dirk’s point entered a crevice. We dug again, frantic¬ 
ally, and now I was able to trace all sides of the loose 
block of stone that acted as a bar to the entrance. Mus¬ 
tapha brought out his knife and aided me in the prying, 
and between us we managed to move the stone outwards 
as if it worked on hinges. I thought of the Arabian lad 
who entered the retreat of the Forty Thieves. I too had 
found an “Open Sesame” to riches. Were my eyes also 
to be dazzled by the sight of treasure? 

The finding of the entrance, though it made me sol¬ 
emn, also created something of a sense of security, for 
now we could continue our search underground without 
attracting attention. One fear, however, still lingered, 
and moved me to frantic haste—Murad’s coming! 

We lowered ourselves a depth of six feet into the rock 
room. The clammy moisture chilled our faces; the foul 
smell choked us. Lifting our torches, we peered into the 
darkness. 

When our eyes grew accustomed to the gloom 
we found ourselves standing among several skeletons, 
which had the appearance of having been hurriedly 
buried. This discovery almost led us to a panicky re¬ 
treat, but I had risked too much to be turned from my 
quest by skeletons, and I stepped across the bones and 
thrust my torch into the center regions. There, buried 


182 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

in oblong chambers rudely hewn out of the rock floor 
of the cavern, I saw six bodies that had moldered to 
dust. Girding their bones, however, was jewelry such 
as I had never, even in my wildest dreams, imagined. 

Upon the time-blackened skulls were headbands of 
gold. Covering the rib-bones were massive breast-plates 
of the same metal. As I held down my flame the deli¬ 
cately-wrought patterns of rosettes and palmettos with 
which these pieces were ornamented flashed out bril¬ 
liantly. Upon the wrist-bones hung loosely serpent¬ 
shaped gold bracelets. From this rich metal dress jewels 
flamed out to match my beacon’s fire. 

Around these rock tombs lay more treasures—inlaid 
daggers with images of cats engraved on their gold 
handles and with lotus patterns traced on their blades; 
alabaster cups, hollowed out and painted inside with a 
brilliant red; stone images of elks with heads of silver; 
jugs and cups of ivory, alabaster, amber, silver, gold, 
and porcelain. 

Scholars have since told me that the ancients consid¬ 
ered that the station of a person in the world of the 
dead depended upon the wealth with which he was bur¬ 
ied. The people who buried these corpses had assuredly 
done their utmost to insure the eminence of their friends 
in the dominions of death. I did not pause to wonder 
whether these were the remains of Phoenicians, Egyptians 
or of a still earlier race that had dominated the 
Mediterranean and exacted toll of treasure from the 
surrounding barbaric tribes. Here the bodies lay. Above 
them, through the centuries, strange peoples had settled 
and passed; caravans had stopped and hurried on; danc¬ 
ing girls had whirled; dervishes had practiced sorceries, 
yet none dreamed of this cool tomb with its riches. The 


The Treasure Tomb 183 

stuff was here for my taking. Murad was hard on my 
heels. My lust for fortune overcame all thoughts of 
reverence for the dead. 

‘‘Open the sacks, Mustapha,” I said, “the smallest 
treasures are the most valuable. We will take what we 
can carry and trust to fortune for a chance to bring out 
the rest—or perhaps they will fall as crumbs to Murad!” 

“Listen, master,” Mustapha whispered. Men’s voices 
came to us. I sprang in terror towards the entrance with 
Mustapha at my heels. As I peered out into the night 
my breath came again. The tinkle of camel bells came 
to reassure me. A caravan was entering Tokra, with 
no suspicion that they were passing within a stone’s 
throw of such wealth. 

The capacious sacks loaded, I climbed out of the tomb 
by making a stepping-stone of Mustapha’s back. He 
hoisted up to me the three bags. I then leaned down 
and pulled him out. It was about midnight. 

“Go to the stables,” I said, giving him a coin, “and 
tell Achmet the camel keeper that urgent business takes 
you back to Derne. Bring our camels—Achmet knows 
that they belong to you. Put the gold into his palm. 
Tell him that you are on business for Hamet Bashaw, 
who may conquer Tokra next week!” 

“I know that he sympathizes with Hamet,” Mustapha 
assured me. “He will help us, and keep his tongue!” 

While Mustapha was gone, I replaced the stone door 
and shoveled back the dirt. Mustapha returned with 
the camels. They knelt as we loaded the sacks upon 
them. Around them we piled the bags of dates that 
had already formed the camels’ freight. We turned 
towards Derne and rode like the wind. 

Many hours would pass, I reasoned, before Murad 


184 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

would begin his search. If then he suspected that the 
tomb had been robbed and made inquiries, many more 
hours must pass before he could start in pursuit. 

As things happened, however, it was not from behind 
us that danger came. We came into the vicinity of 
Derne at nightfall, and drove our jaded camels as fast 
as we could make them fly, fearing always an encounter 
with the soldiers of Joseph Bashaw. We succeeded in 
gaining the city’s bounds with no adventure except pass¬ 
ing through a volley fired at random by guards whom 
we passed too swiftly to permit them to arrest us, but 
as we rode through the town at gray dawn we observed 
no signs of our troops. 

We learned from old Omar, an inn-keeper who came 
drowsily out to open for us, that the ship Constellation 
had arrived bearing orders to General Eaton to quit 
Derne at once, since Consul-General Lear had con¬ 
cluded a peace with Tripoli. He told us that General 
Eaton and all of the Christians in the party, together 
with Hamet Bashaw and his suite, had embarked on the 
Constellation in a secret manner, for fear that the people 
of Derne, and their allies, the Arab supporters of Hamet, 
would attempt to massacre the party when they found 
that the war had been abandoned and that they were 
left to the mercy of Joseph. 

Omar described how, when General Eaton had barely 
gotten clear of the wharf, the soldiers and citizens of 
Derne had crowded down to the shore shouting prayers 
to the general and Hamet not to leave them to the mercy 
of Joseph’s soldiers. Finding their pleas of no avail, 
the soldiers had seized the horses the party had left be¬ 
hind, plundered the tents of the departing officers, and 
fled towards Egypt. 


The Treasure Tomb 


185 

After this occurrence a Tripolitan officer, a messen¬ 
ger from Joseph Bashaw, had landed from the Constel¬ 
lation under a flag of truce, bearing a message to the 
people of Derne that Joseph Bashaw would pardon all 
who laid down their arms and renewed their allegiance 
to him. Joseph’s troops were to begin the occupancy of 
Derne that morning. 

Omar shook his head. 

“For myself, I fear nothing. Allah is good. Under 
his guidance I remained loyal to Joseph. The return¬ 
ing Governor will know that Omar is faithful. But as 
for my neighbors—let them not trust too much in the 
Bashaw’s promises. If I had fought on Hamet’s side I 
should flee to the mountains!” 

Mustapha and I exchanged worried glances. Here we 
were abandoned by our friends and facing capture by 
Joseph’s soldiers when they entered the city. In that 
case, our gold and jewels would go to adorn the greedy 
Joseph’s throne. The main object of our treasure search, 
to provide the general with funds to continue the ex¬ 
pedition, could not be carried out. There was nothing 
to do but flee—but where? From the camp of the enemy 
came sounds of soldiers assembling. The triumphal 
entry would soon begin. 

“Cavalry! Mount! Escape!” cried Mustapha. 

From a distance, swiftly coming nearer, we heard the 
sound of hoof-beats. Around the corner of the inn 
came a blaze of color. Galloping steeds were suddenly 
reined in. A Moorish officer, splendidly uniformed, came 
towards me. Mustapha, who had stood several yards 
away, began to lead his beast and mine down towards 
the river front. 

“Alhamdulilah! (Praise be to God)” he sang, “My 


186 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

lord the Bashaw returns to his own! The cowardly 
usurper Hamet has fled before Joseph Bashaw’s brave 
warriors!” 

The troopers gave Mustapha but a fleeting glance. 
My head was uncovered and they saw that I was an 
American. 

There was a whispered conference. American war¬ 
ships might be still in the mists that hid sea and shore. 
I had hopes that they would pass me by unmolested. 
Instead the officer turned to his men. 

“Bind the Nazarene! One at least of the Christian 
dogs shall pay the penalty of starting rebellion against 
our worshipful ruler!” 

I was bound hand and foot, thrown across a camel’s 
back, and led out of the city, to the enemy’s camp. 

In the possession of an Arab lad, who was now as 
a lamb among wolves, were the gold and jewels I had 
risked so much to secure. One gem of the collection 
would have purchased my ransom, but knowing that a 
hint as to the contents of the sacks would lead to the 
loss of all of the treasure, I resolved to suffer slavery 
before I spoke of them. I prayed that Mustapha would 
keep the secret, yet how could I expect that fate would 
not reveal the contents of the sacks to covetous eyes? 


CHAPTER XVIII 


SOLD INTO SLAVERY 

M Y captor, the Moorish officer, was a native of 
Ghadames, an interior city of Tripoli—a caravan 
center located on a camel route to the Soudan. I was 
regarded by him as the spoils of war, and his purpose 
was clearly to sell me for a good price in an inland slave 
market where there would be no American consul to 
make inquiries. As soon as Derne was occupied, Joseph’s 
army disbanded and the soldiers whose property I was 
began to journey to their homes. Our caravan started 
too, and I found myself riding upon the most un¬ 
comfortable camel in the outfit, chained by one wrist to 
the trappings of the beast. 

I decided to lose no chance to escape. I knew that the 
farther inland I went, the more difficult it would be for 
me to reach the coast. My thoughts dwelt upon the 
treasure-bags I had last seen flopping through the 
streets of Deme on Mustapha’s camels. I swore that 
my Arab comrade would see me again soon—and I de¬ 
voutly hoped that his ingenuity would enable him to hide 
the treasure. 

At last, when I was beginning to despair of falling in 
with a coastbound caravan, we met a huge one bound 
from the Soudan to Tripoli. In the excitement of meet¬ 
ing, and in the feasting and dancing that went on be¬ 
tween the two parties, my guard forgot me. I had been 
unshackled while I ate, and the only sentinel over me 

187 


188 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

was a young Arab who had been stationed at the front 
entrance to my tent. I saw him looking yearningly at 
the Arab girls who were dancing. I snored loudly and 
regularly, watching his movements through the opening. 
Suddenly he disappeared. A moment later I vanished 
too. I hoped to escape with the Tripoli-bound caravan, 
and stole over to where its camel-drivers were gathered. 
I had made my color as dark as possible, and wore my 
long gown in true Arab fashion. I had learned, too, 
some common Arab words. 

In the center of the crowd I saw an African snake- 
charmer. The fakir’s round, fleshy face shone like pol¬ 
ished ebony, and when he grinned, which was often, I 
caught sight of two massive rows of gleaming ivory. 
He wore nothing but a breech-cloth and sandals. His 
body was covered with scars. These snake-charmers, 
I had heard, inflicted wounds upon themselves, some¬ 
times through religious frenzy, and sometimes because 
it gave them prestige with their audiences. 

This fakir influenced the people much in the same way 
that a street evangelist at home attracts listeners by 
music and loud words. In his train were several men 
who played cymbals and bagpipes. As soon as they 
began clanging and blowing upon these instruments, the 
crowd gathered. 

I drew back, for fear that the fakir’s attentions to me 
would lead to discovery, but his eyes had singled me out 
from the minute of my approach, and he followed me, 
though not in a way to attract notice. 

Alarmed, I was about to make a wild dash into the 
desert when he caught my arm. I drew back to strike. 

“The saint Mohammed,” he said, catching my arm, 
“will harbor an escaping Nazarene so long as the Naza- 


189 


Sold Into Slavery 

rene is willing to clang the cymbals loudly in the name 
of Mohammed, and is active in collecting coins when the 
snakes have done squirming and the tales have been 
told. Two of my attendants have deserted me. I offer 
you a trip to the coast in my train.” 

I nodded assent—any port in a storm! 

“Bring forth the cymbals! Mohammed is welcome tQ 
any music I can make with them!” I said. 

“Pay close attention to my motions and when I signal 
you, collect what coins you can. If any man question 
you, pretend to be dumb.” 

He led me into his tent close by, procured for me a 
coarse robe that was an effectual disguise and applied 
a pigment to my skin. When he was through with me 
I looked like one of his own tribe. I went forth then 
and mingled with the throng, listening while Mohammed 
told tales in Arabic. 

Fascinating indeed were Mohammed’s tricks. I 
watched in astonishment as he shaped a bundle of hay 
into a mound and covered the pile with water. 

“By the grace of Mulai Ali, my patron saint,” he said, 
“I give this hay to the flames and command these ser¬ 
pents to respect the commands of the Prophet’s servant!” 

With these words, he emptied a bag of snakes on the 
ground. They looked deadly as they wriggled about his 
feet and twined themselves around his body. I was 
told that their poison had not been removed, yet he held 
the head of the serpent that looked the most dangerous 
so close to him that its fangs almost touched his lips. 

With feats of this nature, and with many tales, my 
new patron won his audience, and collections were easy 
to make. What I gathered pleased him and I had the 
feeling that I had for the time earned a right to his pro- 


190 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

tection. I was safely housed in his tent when men came 
to search the oasis for me, but when they inquired of him 
he called down curses on them for causing the thought 
of a Nazarene to cross the mind of a child of the 
Prophet. 

We departed with the caravan bound for the coast. 
The Moorish officer’s soldiers inspected us closely, but 
Mohammed kept me closely engaged, and arranged my 
hood so that I was dimly seen by the watchers. I es¬ 
caped even a challenge. We stopped at frequent oases, 
where Mohammed entertained and I collected. 

But now, perhaps because the matter of my disguise 
handicapped him; perhaps because he feared punish¬ 
ment for harboring an escaped slave; perhaps from greed, 
Mohammed betrayed me. When we were a day’s travel 
from Tripoli, we fell in with a small coast-bound cara¬ 
van that had lost one of its camels and needed a beast 
of burden to take its place. I became that animal! 

On hearing Achmet, the chief of the caravan, offer a 
large sum for a beast of burden, Mohammed’s eyes 
lighted on me. “There,” he said, “is a sound-bodied 
Nazarene slave that will do the work well. He has 
served my purpose and since I have saved him from 
being sold as a slave in the interior, he should not carp 
at my selling him to you. Take the Christian dog, and 
may you lead him to become a true follower of Mo¬ 
hammed !” 

I was thus hurled into the ranks of Achmet, whose 
blood-shot, piercing eye and hawk nose gave him a cruel 
look in keeping with his character. 

“The Christian dog belongs to no country,” Moham¬ 
med told the people to whom I sought to appeal. “He is 


Sold Into Slavery 191 

a cur who has been helping the troublesome Hamet 
Bashaw to stir up a rebellion against our noble ruler.” 

These W'ords enraged the crowd against me, and see¬ 
ing how hopeless was my state, I slunk away, kicked 
and slapped, to take up my burden. 

Fortunately, this caravan too was bound for Tripoli. 
I expected that there I would have a chance to lay my 
case before the American consul, and hoped to secure 
through him freedom and permission to sail back to 
Derne in search of my treasure sacks. 

Loaded with as much of the camel’s pack as I could 
stagger under, I followed in the camel train. When 
camp was made, I was forced to scramble among the 
dogs for my share of the scraps thrown to them by the 
camel-drivers. 

When we reached Tripoli I was driven, closely 
guarded, to dark quarters on the outskirts of the town, 
and threatened with death if I tried to escape. I found 
out that the American consul was at Malta on business 
that had arisen out of the making of peace with Joseph 
Bashaw. My case, therefore, seemed almost as hopeless 
as when I was first captured. 

These cities of Barbary are strange affairs. The 
streets wind in and out between white walls. You go 
under shadowy arches; you climb here a dozen stairs 
and a little later go up an incline without stairs. The 
streets are usually too narrow for camels or carts, so 
that porters and donkeys do most of the hauling. A 
swarm of people pass continually up and down these 
cramped ways. The Moslem women wear silken street 
garments (haicks) that conceal the finery beneath. The 
faces of these women are covered with a fine silk veil, 


192 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

and underneath their haicks may be seen their bulging 
Turkish trousers. 

When I asked why the women wore veils, I was told 
that the custom had come down from the time the Chris¬ 
tian crusaders invaded the Moslem countries; the at¬ 
tention they paid to the wives and daughters of the 
Turks led to the followers of Mohammed prescribing 
the veil for their women folk. 

Among the streams of people were Jews talking 
trade, consoling themselves for the insults by the Mo¬ 
hammedans with the thought of the profits they were 
making in their dealings with the Moslems; European 
envoys; rich, lazy Moors; camel drivers; black slaves; 
soldiers in the Bashaw’s service, and sailors employed 
by the corsair captains. Lame, halt, and blind beggars 
sat by the roadside, beseeching gifts. 

“In the name of Allah, give us alms!” a beggar wailed 
from almost every corner and doorway. The men they 
solicited were usually rich Moors who wore turbans of 
fine cloth and richly embroidered vests. Yet often they 
would select for their target a camel driver from the 
desert, clad in his coarse gray baracan. 

Here stood a fountain surrounded by Arabs and 
negroes drawing water in gourds and jugs; yonder a 
dozen women sat on the ground, selling bread. Hooded 
Arab boys romped on the outskirts of the throng, or re¬ 
cited verses from the Koran to a bearded teacher. Lean 
cats and dogs were everywhere. All kinds of smells filled 
the air—garlic, burning aloe wood, fish. 

I stood one day in an archway six feet wide that stood 
in the center of four streets and watched the crowd go 
by. I saw fish-mongers carrying great baskets of sar¬ 
dines, and strings of slimy catfish, against which the 


193 


Sold Into Slavery 

crowd brushed, leaving the dirt and smell of the fish on 
their garments. Girls with boards on their heads filled 
with dough ready for baking darted in and out among 
the throng; donkeys, laden with garbage, ambled along¬ 
side of donkeys carrying fresh roses. Jews, burdened 
with muslin and calico, went from door to door, haggling 
with those who examined their wares through partly- 
opened doors. Boys sauntered along munching raw car¬ 
rots and artichokes; girls of eight carried on their backs 
babies wrapped in dirty rags. The little mothers and 
their charges seemed never to have seen soap and water, 
but from hair to anklets they were decked with faded 
flowers. 

Blind people—there were hundreds of them—walked 
along as boldly as if they had eyesight, leaving it for 
those who could see to get out of their way. 

“Balek (out of the way) !” was the cry of everyone. 
“Emshi Rooah, ya kelb (clear out, begone, you dog) !” 
was a cry I had grown accustomed to through hearing 
it hurled at me countless times, for was not I a member of 

“A sect they are taught to hate 
And are delighted to decapitate.” 

The upper stories of the houses projected over the 
lower, and, because of the narrow street, the houses that 
stood opposite each other almost met, so that all one 
could see of the sky in many places was a bright blue 
chink overhead. The walls were all whitewashed; here 
and there a beautiful gateway appeared. One could not 
tell from the exterior of the houses whether rich folk 
or poor folk dwelt inside the walls, yet beyond many of 
these dark corridors leading through the walls were 
beautiful garden courts, with silver fountains playing 


194 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

and an abundance of flowers and trees, while underfoot 
were tiles of various rich colors. 

Of the many mosques I passed I can tell nothing, as 
Christians are not allowed to enter them. Neither were 
we allowed to dress in green or white—for these are the 
colors of the prophet. 

My new master, still using me as a beast of burden, 
took me several times to the house at which he lodged. 
I was thus able to get a glimpse inside a Mohammedan 
home of the middle class. We went through a white¬ 
washed tunnel till we came to a gate from which hung 
a huge brass knocker. 

My master did not use the knocker. He began to 
pound on the door in the Arab fashion. A veiled woman 
peeped over the terrace wall and screamed a question at 
him. His reply reassured her, and we were admitted to 
a little square court that was neatly paved with red tiles, 
through which ran a path of marble lined with oleanders 
and fig trees. Rooms, white-washed and blue-washed, 
opened on this court. The owner of the house, Fatima, 
was a widow, who lived with her old father, and earned 
her living by embroidering and weaving. She wore the 
white silken veil as we entered; but as she gossiped with 
my master she pulled it aside and showed her brown, 
dumpling face. She wore an embroidered jacket and 
silk pantaloons, along with gold trimmings and jewelry— 
an array that seemed so strange to me that I kept my 
eyes fastened on the ceiling while I was in her presence. 
She had rented one of her small rooms to my master, 
whose parents she knew. Fatima spent much of her 
time on the roof of her house, looking down on the 
street over the walls of her terrace. The roofs or ter¬ 
races were used by women alone and most of the visiting 


Sold Into Slavery 195 

between houses was done by climbing across the walls 
dividing the houses. 

For privacy, Fatima dropped a flimsy curtain over 
the door of her room, and this barrier was as strictly 
respected by her household as if it were a strong door. 
Visitors were received in the parlor. Fatima and her 
guests sat on a divan covered with cushions and drank 
coffee. Handwoven carpets and draperies were every¬ 
where. 

The beds of the household were mattresses spread on 
the floor. One blanket often covers an entire family in 
the houses of the poor. Fatima fell sick while we were 
under her roof, and sent a woman friend to a holy man 
for a remedy. I discovered that the medicine was noth¬ 
ing more than a slip of paper containing the words “He 
will heal the breasts of the people who believe.” 

Fatima was ordered to chew and swallow the paper. 
The widow still complained of illness after swallowing 
this dose, and was ordered by the marabout to write a 
verse from the Koran on the inside of a cup; then to 
pour in water till the writing was washed away; then to 
drink this water, which was supposed to have in it the 
virtue expressed in the verse. I followed my master out 
of Fatima’s house greatly amazed at this kind of medi¬ 
cal treatment, but I did not wonder at hearing that she 
had complained that her aches were increasing. 

THE SLAVE MARKET 

Achmet had now no further use for me and decided 
to sell me as a slave. I was driven, chained, to the slave 
market. This auction place was in a large square. All 
around it were little booths. These were crowded with 
spectators. Through the center of the bazaar ran a walk. 


196 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

Most of the slaves that had been brought to the market 
for sale were women and girls. Among the Moors it 
was thought no evil to deal in human flesh. A black 
woman with children was first sold. One could tell by 
the way she clung to her brood that she feared she would 
be separated from them. We saw her face light when 
one of the Moors who was squatting on the edge of the 
walk bought the entire family. 

A boy came next. He was handled by prospective 
buyers as if he were a horse. His eyes, mouth, teeth and 
nostrils were examined. The first Moslem who in¬ 
spected him must have seen some defect in the lad, for 
he waved him away. The auctioneer then seized the boy 
and led him up and down the walk before the Moors 
in the bazaars, shouting his good points. 

Most of the girls were blacks or mulattoes, brought 
from the interior of Africa by Arabian traders. There 
were a few white girls among them. Each girl or 
woman was handled in the same manner as the boys had 
been. Some of the maidens boldly returned the stare 
of those who inspected them. Others shrank from their 
inspection and, when possible, covered their faces with 
the woolen haicks they wore. 

This slave market reflected only a small part of the 
slave life of the city. I saw men and women of all classes 
huddled together in dark, dirty prisons, praying their 
countrymen would send money to ransom them. 

Those whose relatives were not rich enough to buy 
their freedom were sold to various buyers and set to work 
at all kinds of labor. The owners often made use of 
their slaves to earn them money. The old slaves were 
usually sent out to sell water. Many a drink have I 
bought from these water-carriers, as, dragging their 


197 


Sold Into Slavery 

chains, they led their donkeys through the streets and 
sold water from bags of skin that hung across the backs 
of their beasts. Some of my other acquaintances among 
the slaves acted as messengers or house-servants; others 
were employed as herders, drivers or plowmen—I have 
even seen a Christian slave yoked to a plow with an ox 
for a yoke-fellow. 

Once, while inland, I saw coming out of the Soudan a 
score of slaves fastened together in a long wooden yoke 
that had many holes cut in it a few feet apart to admit the 
heads of the slaves. If one of these slaves fell sick or 
grew too weak to walk, he would hang from this yoke 
by his neck, with his feet dragging. As much as he 
suffered himself, his condition added to the sufferings of 
his yoke-fellows, for they had to bear his weight. I 
heard that if he seemed likely to die before the slave 
market was reached, his master would cut his head from 
his body with one knife stroke—it saved halting the 
procession to remove the sick man from the yoke. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE ESCAPE 


M URAD in Tripoli! There he stood, stroking his 
beard and gazing at me with glittering eyes as 
I was hauled past him to the auction-block. 

A fierce Arabian trader, who was forming a caravan 
to go into the Soudan, bid for me. Murad offered more. 
I was torn between my terror of being sold “up-coun¬ 
try” and of being bought by the Egyptian, who would 
probably apply torture to wring from me the story of 
what had become of the contents of the treasure tomb. 
The Arabian, scowling at Murad, made a still higher bid, 
whereupon Murad increased his offer. The trader gave 
me a few final digs and slaps, as if to see if I had the 
sinews and endurance to warrant his paying a higher 
price; then he shook his head, cursed me for a Christian 
dog, and passed to the next slave. Murad came forward. 
I was pushed into his arms and then thrust by him into 
the rough hands of his two Moorish attendants. 

The Egyptian told me curtly that he had purchased 
from the Algerines a ship they had captured called the 
Hawk, which he meant to use as a merchant vessel under 
the protection of the Bashaw, and that he had bought 
me for service on board of her. 

“I am buying out of these slave markets a crew of 
European sailors,” he said curtly. “Remember that we 
are now master and slave. Where I once befriended you, 
now I will compel you to wear chains and be subject 

198 



199 


The Escape 

to the lash. The American consul to this port is now 
in Malta; we will sail before he returns; place no hope 
in him. I want you to search your memory and be pre¬ 
pared to tell me every move you made since I left you 
aboard The Rose of Egypt. I shall soon question you 
upon certain happenings in the desert about which you 
doubtless have knowledge!” 

My eyes fell before his piercing gaze. “I see I have 
struck home, ,, he said, “I can question you better aboard 
ship. Go! Report now to my mate, MacWilliams. ,, 

Under the charge of the two Moors, I was sent aboard 
the Hawk. She was a staunch, graceful, roomy vessel, 
built on the Clyde out of the best materials—a ship that 
reflected credit on the Scotchmen who made her. I said 
to myself, as I viewed her admiringly, that she was far 
too good a ship to be in such vile hands. For all of 
Murad’s threats, my spirits rose as I felt her deck under 
my feet. Here I was among white men, and decent 
fellows they appeared to be. Here I had a dozen chances 
to escape, while if the Arabian trader had gained pos¬ 
session of me, only a miracle could have rescued me. 
As for Murad, if he tortured me, I meant to leap over¬ 
board and attempt to swim to safety. 

The mate, William MacWilliams, was a big, raw-boned, 
lantern-jawed man. He received me with kindness and 
pity. I heard that, under threat of death, he had denied 
the religion of Christ and had embraced the faith of 
Mohammed. Murad seemed to place great trust in him. 
The Egyptian had become, it seemed, too important a 
man to be a mere ship captain—perhaps his experience on 
The Rose of Egypt had brought about this state of mind 
—and he left all matters in charge of the mate. He 
himself had much business to transact at court, and things 


200 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

occurred to postpone his questioning of me until we were 
almost ready to sail. 

Since my chains were the badge of my slavery, no 
watch was kept on me as I went to and fro on errands 
for those who were outfitting the ship. 

William MacWilliams interested me greatly. I had 
heard that there were many renegades of his type in 
Barbary. I have been informed that the word renegade 
comes from the Latin word nego, which means “I deny.” 
Some of these men had become turncoats to save their 
skins; others had become renegades because the Moslems, 
poor sailors themselves, were glad to employ Christian 
sea captains, and gave them opportunities to live luxuri¬ 
ously and become rich. 

MacWilliams wore a most melancholy expression. For 
all his supposed devotion to the religion of Mohammed, 
I came upon him one day reading a pocket Testament. 

“It is a book that has sublime characters in it, my lad,” 
he said in an embarrassed fashion. Then he turned and 
looked towards a mosque on shore. “There is but one 
God, and Allah is his prophet!” he said piously. I looked 
around, surprised at the change in his attitude. Then 
I saw the reason. The commander of the Turkish sol¬ 
diers quartered on board the Hawk had passed our way. 

I could not fathom MacWilliams. Yet, understanding 
something of the temptations a Christian faced in Bar¬ 
bary, I tried to be charitable in my judgment towards 
him. 

Meanwhile, I became a carrier of supplies, threading 
my way through the motley throngs with my back bent 
beneath coils of rope, carpenters’ tools, and ship’s stores. 

While on one of these errands I had a curious ad¬ 
venture. 


201 


The Escape 

I tried to go through the streets without giving offence 
to any Mussulman, as I feared a cuffing or even the 
bastinado. 

I soon learned that it was the so-called “saints” that 
were the most dangerous to Christians. The Arabs, 
while they will themselves refrain from showing the 
contempt they feel towards Christians, nevertheless will 
reward and praise one of the holy men for abusing us. 

A tall scantily clad negro, of the type of Mohammed, 
was the most fanatical and the mo$t dangerous “saint” 
I met. He was begging alms at the entrance to a court¬ 
yard when he saw me passing. He carried a staff in 
his hand which he used principally to strike Jews and 
Christians. It was not the stick that troubled me, but 
instead the habit he had of spitting in the face of Chris¬ 
tians. As he peered into my face, detecting my Christian 
features despite my attempt to disguise them, I saw his 
mouth moving as if he were preparing to attack me after 
his vile custom. I hurried out of his range, and escaped 
the spittle. My quickness enraged him, and he called 
after me in Arabian. I had heard the words often 
enough to know that they meant: 

“Dog of a Christian, may your grandmother roast! Why 
shouldst thou avoid the spittle of a saint? It would be 
the only thing blessed upon thee, seeing that it came 
from the mouth of a saint!” 

I darted down a side street and into a doorway, hoping 
to rid myself of the pest, but he followed quickly and 
caught sight of my place of refuge. 

“Dog of a Christian,” he cried again, poking me in 
the chest and ribs with his staff, “why do you offend 
Mohammed by treading the same ground as true be¬ 
lievers ?” 


202 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

My blood mounted as I smarted beneath his cudgel. 
I decided that I would fare just as well by resisting as 
by submitting, so I ducked my head and dived into the 
stomach of the fellow, upsetting him. This turned out 
to be, in the eyes of the Moslems, a great sacrilege. It 
appeared that while the alleged holy man had entire free¬ 
dom to beat me, I had committed a crime by doing violence 
to his body. He made a tremendous uproar as he rose 
from the dust, and the noise drew a crowd that began 
to pummel me. I plunged deeper into the doorway, and, 
having seized the stick of the marabout, whirled it before 
me in a vigorous fashion. A storm of stones and sticks 
beat upon me. 

While I was on my knees, expecting a rush that would 
trample me to death, I suddenly heard a familiar voice 
above the shrieks of the mass. 

“Dogs of the desert, how dare you trouble the slave 
of a good Mohammedan? This Nazarene is the slave 
of my master, friend of the Bashaw! Is my lord a Jew 
or a Christian that you would destroy his property before 
the eyes of a witness? The slave was assaulted first. 
I swear by the Prophet that he is a gentle slave, and 
intended no injury to the holy man. Off with you before 
I call the soldiers of the Bashaw!” 

The crowd dispersed. Grumbling, the marabout de¬ 
parted. 

I looked into the twinkling eyes of Mustapha. Snatch¬ 
ing the marabout’s staff from my hand, he began to pelt 
me across the shoulders. “It is necessary that I do this,” 
he whispered, “the people are watching.” 

I went through the crowd with Mustapha belaboring 
me and shouting: 

“Dog of a Nazarene, how dare you risk your body, 


The Escape 203 

for which my master paid a great sum, in a fight with a 
holy man?” 

When we reached a place where our talk could not 
be overheard, I burst out: “The treasure sacks, Mus- 
tapha? Do not tell me that the Moors have them!” 

“The bags are safe, oh David,” he assured me, “but 
fret not if you are not able to open them till you return 
to America. After you were captured, I hurried to the 
waterside. There I saw the cutter of The Morning Star , 
a vessel of the American navy. I unstrapped the sacks 
and put them in the boat, pointing out to the sailor in 
charge the tags you had tied around their necks.” 

This information dumbfounded me. The fact that I 
had been careful enough to tie to the necks of the sacks 
tags from our own naval stores seemed to promise now 
delivery of the sacks to a safe place—if they were not 
ripped open and plundered meanwhile. This was not 
liable to happen in view of the pains I had taken to 
ward off curiosity. Upon each tag I had written plainly: 

ARCHAEOLOGICAL SPECIMENS 
to be delivered to 

Rev. Ezekiel Eccleston, D.D., 

Rector of Marley Chapel, 

Baltimore, Md. 

Sender: David Forsyth, 

With American Military Expedition 
in Libyan Desert. 

“If the men who handle the bags respect either the 
navy or the ministry,” I said to Mustapha, “the treasure 
will be safe. But how can I be sure that the sacks were 
received on board the ship?” 


204 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

“I saw the bags lifted over the side, oh, thou of little 
faith,” Mustapha reproved me, “and the boat did not 
return to the dock. A few hours later The Morning Star 
sailed for America. Allah favored you—my tribe moved 
this way when Joseph Bashaw’s soldiers took possession 
of Derne, and thus I came to prevent your blood being 
spilled in the streets of Tripoli!” 

“I want to reward you with the biggest gem in our 
collection,” I said, “but how can I do it when our fortune 
is at sea?” 

Then a thought came to me. “Mustapha,” I said, “I 
mean to escape from the Hawk and board a ship bound 
for England or America. I have learned from the mate 
that a servant boy is needed on the Hawk. If you like, 
I’ll recommend you for the place. You must pretend 
not to know me. If the owner of the Hawk discovers 
that you know about the treasure, he’ll probably cut your 
throat? Can you swim?” 

Mustapha nodded. “I’ll dive overboard if he bothers 
me!” 

“Come then,” I said, “we’ll follow our riches to 
America, and you shall return home a great sheik!” 

His tribesmen had returned to the desert, and he was 
free to act for himself. Quite without fear, he followed 
me aboard. I spoke a good word for him to Mac- 
Williams, and before long he was peeling potatoes in the 
galley. If I had thought that Murad would recognize 
him, I should have given my right hand rather than have 
invited him to share my luck; I did not know that my 
meeting with Mustapha had been observed by Murad, 
and that I was leading the lad into danger. 

All too soon came the interview I feared with my 


205 


The Escape 

owner. One day Murad came aboard the Hawk, entered 
the cabin, and sent for me. The tiger was about to show 
his claws. I was not greatly frightened, for I reckoned 
that he would need me in his plans to gain possession 
of the treasure. 

“Now, you scheming dog,” he said, “let’s not beat 
about the bush. Your guardian told me once of a 
treasure tomb hidden in the desert. You know the story. 
Perhaps you know, too, how I came into possession of 
the rector’s secret. When at last I was able to uncover 
the tomb, all of the relics worth taking had vanished. 
Don’t try to look innocent: you were my cabin boy on 
board The Rose of Egypt. The reason you enlisted with 
me so readily was that you wanted to find the chart 
and get a chance at the treasure at Tokra. I found that 
someone had entered the tomb a few hours before me. 
Two strange young Arabs had been seen near the spot. 
I choked a stablekeeper until he described both rascals. 
One of the two Arabs was you, eh? Tell me where the 
trinkets and jewels are! If your tongue is stubborn, a 
red-hot iron may cause it to move. What did you find? 
Tell me what you took away! Speak up—the way to 
save yourself from the torture you well deserve is to 
put me on the track of the treasure!” 

There was nothing to be gained by secrecy, and much 
to be suffered, so I described the trinkets and gems in a 
way that made his eyes sparkle and his fingers quiver. 
He snarled and showed his wolfish teeth when I told 
him that the treasure sacks were on their way to America. 

All of a sudden I was knocked down by a blow from 
his fist. He stepped across me and called to a sailor in 
Arabic. After the lapse of a minute, the door of the 


206 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

cabin was thrown open, and Mustapha was thrust in by 
a Moslem guard. He had been seized in the act of 
diving over the side. 

“Is this the young devil that led you to Tokra?” Murad 
thundered at me. 

“Yes,” I said, “but he went only as my guide and 
knew nothing of why I went. He has done nothing to 
merit punishment.” 

Under a volley of threats, Mustapha was commanded 
to tell all that he knew of the treasure tomb. He looked 
at me with frightened eyes; yet his lips remained sealed. 

“Tell all, Mustapha,” I said, “it will free you, and it 
will be no more than I have already told.” 

His story, as he stammered it, agreed with mine in 
every particular. 

Murad strode up and down the cabin, swearing in 
Arabic and English. Then he shot questions at both of 
us concerning The Morning Star. When had she sailed 
from Derne? What was to be her next port? Was she 
fast? How many men and guns did she carry? 

When Mustapha had answered as well as he could, 
Murad booted us out of the cabin. “I’m not done with 
you, miserable curs,” he cried. “I’ll need you when I 
board The Morning Star. Then for all the trouble you’ve 
caused me, I’ll sew you up in the bags and drop you 
overboard! If you can think of a way of getting those 
bags you’ll do well to send for them as your ransom. 

If I don’t get them, you-” He drew his finger across 

his throat with a horrible gesture. 

He now sent for MacWilliams and gave him sharp 
orders. 

The next morning, after a day of hurried preparation, 
the Hawk sailed. 



The Escape 207 

The ship had an armament of ten cannon, and carried 
an abundant supply of ammunition and provisions. A 
company of Moorish soldiers were on board of her. 
What was the Hawk's mission? Were we Christians to 
be used in enslaving other Christians? Was the Hawk 
a ship whose mission fitted her name? Was she to be 
a pirate ship seeking Christian vessels as prey, and would 
we be made to fight and to help enslave men of our own 
religion and blood? Questions like these concerned the 
Christians among the crew, and I for one prayed that 
I would have the courage to jump overboard if there 
came a moment when I was driven to do such deeds. 

On our first day out, I made bold to unburden myself 
to the mate. MacWilliams eyed me gravely. “You are 
not to ask questions. You are to do as you are told. 
What happens on board this ship shall be on my con- 
science. ,, 

He walked off, leaving me no more clear about the 
matter than I was before. I saw the Danes and Italians 
talking earnestly in their languages, and I knew that 
what was worrying me was also troubling them. 

MacWilliams was master of navigation, but had no 
authority over any other activity aboard ship. There 
were about forty Moslems aboard who took no part in 
sailing the vessel. In charge of them was Murad, who 
had command over the entire ship and told MacWilliams 
the direction in which he wanted the ship to sail. I 
learned that he had directed MacWilliams to sail to 
certain ports outside of the Straits, where he hoped 
to fall in with The Morning Star. 

The master gunner was an English renegade named 
Watson, who had charge of the guns and ammunition. 
The commander seemed to think that European gunners 


208 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

were better than Moors, because among the gunners 
under Watson were several Christian renegades. I found 
myself wondering whether, if all of the men aboard of 
Christian or former Christian faith were moved by the 
same desire to escape, they could not overcome the 
Mohammedans and capture the vessel. Yet, having ob¬ 
served that some Christians when they adopted the Mos¬ 
lem religion grew as fanatical in their devotion as did 
the most extreme worshippers, I decided that it would 
not be safe to whisper such a suggestion to anyone. 

It gave us entertainment while we were performing 
our tasks to watch the peculiar customs of the Moslems. 
Our greatest source of amusement was a professional 
wizard the Moors had brought with them. He had a 
book of magic, and when the commander was in doubt 
as to which course to take, the dark-skinned humbug 
would open his book and advise him according to the 
wisdom he drew from its pages. 

When the wizard’s advice was passed on to Mac- 
Williams, he said nothing by way of dissent, but pro¬ 
ceeded to steer and set sails as his own judgment and 
experience dictated. The Moslems, who had no sea 
knowledge, and were lost when they were out of sight 
of land, made no effort to find out whether the mate was 
following the magician’s counsel. 

Our fears as to what sort of work we were about 
to enter upon soon became certainties. On our second 
day out we caught sight of a large schooner and gave 
chase. Her crew, rather than surrender, drove the ship 
ashore and fled along the coast. The men Murad sent 
in boats to plunder the vessel brought back several guns, 
some gold, and such wearing apparel and furnishings 
as took their fancy. The sight of the gold brought back 


209 


The Escape 

to my mind my own lost treasure. Between the prospect 
of attacking Christian vessels and the remembrance of 
what I had already suffered, I spent my night watches 
in great distress of mind, a state which was in no way 
soothed by the thought that around me lay Christian 
slaves racked by the same thoughts. 

On the next day we sailed boldly through the Straits 
and out into the Atlantic Ocean. As we were making 
the passage through the Straits, we discovered a sail. 
I feared that it was The Morning Star. It proved, how¬ 
ever, to be an Algerine corsair. We spoke to each other 
and separated. 

We headed north, past Cape St. Vincent. It puzzled 
me that Murad would permit MacWilliams to take the 
ship so far from the Mediterranean. It was a dangerous 
undertaking for the corsairs, but the Hawk was an 
unusually speedy ship, and I supposed that Murad was 
depending on her swiftness to escape any hostile war¬ 
ships that he might meet. 

A great homesickness came upon us as we passed into 
the Atlantic. It was intolerable to think of returning to 
the Mediterranean and the dreadful shores of Barbary 
when the coasts of Europe were almost in sight. I 
thought often of the girl who escaped from the desert 
and sailed to America. 

Sometimes Murad’s lieutenant grew angry with some 
of the Moors, who were slow in carrying out his orders. 
To spite them, he showed favor to such Christians as 
happened to be near. 

‘‘Bon Christiano ! Bon Christiano!” he called endear¬ 
ingly. The next hour, however, the wind would change. 
He would stroll along the deck followed by the very 
Moslems he had reviled, and if he found any of us at 


210 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

fault about our work he would bid his Moors knock our 
heads together. He was afraid to carry these tyrannies 
too far, for MacWilliams was prone to look upon him 
with a look that warned him that the Christian sailors 
were too valuable to Mohammedan safety to be abused 
too far. 

One night, while I was on watch, MacWilliams ap¬ 
proached me. His hand rested on my shoulder with a 
fatherly touch that moved me greatly. 

“The time has come when I need your help,” he said. 
“I intend to take this ship to England despite her crew 
of Mohammedans. If the plan goes through, every Chris¬ 
tian slave aboard the Hawk shall step upon the earth of 
Europe a free man. Eve been watching you. I believe 
you agree that it’s better to risk death than to go on 
leading such a life. There are other slaves who think 
the same way. What do you say, lad?” 

“Just you try me!” I said. “I owe the infidels a 
score that can hardly be wiped out. Besides, hasn’t the 
skipper threatened to sew me in a sack and toss me over¬ 
board? Of course, you can trust me, and Mustapha, 
too!” 

“Lad, lad,” MacWilliams went on, “we English blame 
the Turks, yet we have been reaping the fruits of what 
our own race has sowed. The story has passed down 
to me, through generations of seafaring ancestors, of 
how when good Queen Elizabeth passed and when the 
English and Spaniards ceased for a time their warfare 
at sea, hundreds of sailors who had fought in bloody 
battles under Drake were at a loss for employment and 
found it in piracy. 

“Down to the Mediterranean they went and entered 
the service of these evil Moors. It was our forebears 


211 


The Escape 

who taught the Moslems how to become good sea-fighters. 
It was men of our own race who first led the Barbary 
corsairs forth on buccaneering expeditions. What our 
forefathers started, some of us have carried on, but the 
time has come to end it all!” 

Continuing, for we had an idle hour to pass, and the 
mate was desirous of heartening me for our desperate 
undertaking, MacWilliams told me of how in 1639 
William Okeley, an English slave, had constructed in the 
cellar of his master’s shop a light canoe made of canvas, 
making oars from the staves of empty wind pipes. This 
craft he and his companions smuggled down to the beach, 
and five of them embarked in it and made their way 
safely to Majorca. The hardest part of the enterprise 
was their farewell to two other English slaves who were 
to have made the voyage with them, but who were found 
to overweight the little boat. 

“With the help of Gunner Watson,” MacWilliams ex¬ 
plained as I drew him out as to his plan, “we should 
be able to trap the Moslems between the decks; get 
control of the cannon and powder, and sail the ship into 
some European port. It’ll be turning the tables in fine 
style—a Christian crew bringing infidels as captives to 
an English harbor!” 

He proceeded to set forth his plan in detail. “By to¬ 
morrow,” he concluded, “I shall know every trustworthy 
man. I shall then give each man a definite part. Such 
a way of escape has been in my mind for years. A man 
with a Presbyterian conscience can never remain a 
Mohammedan. If our plot succeeds I shall make a con¬ 
tribution to the church of my fathers that I hope shall 
to some extent offset my wickedness!” 

Mustapha carried food from the galley to Murad. 


212 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

MacWilliams told me that it was essential to the success 
of the plot that Murad be made too ill to note the direc¬ 
tion of the ship. The mate was skilful in Oriental 
medicines, and he produced a phial containing a liquid 
that, while tasteless, yet had the power to nauseate and 
weaken a man. While Mustapha obligingly turned his 
back, and while I kept guard, MacWilliams poured the 
fluid into Murad’s broth. The Egyptian was taken with 
what seemed to be chronic sea-sickness and kept to his 
cabin. I do not think he suspected that his food had 
been “doctored.” He ordered MacWilliams to sail close 
to certain ports and to pursue any vessel that was not 
plainly a warship. 

I told the mate something of the treasure tale—enough 
for him to know that Murad was in pursuit of The 
Morning Star —and at whatever port it seemed safe for 
us to stop, MacWilliams brought aboard reports that there 
was a richly laden vessel bound for America that might 
be overhauled before we reached the next Atlantic harbor. 
Thus we continued steadily away from the Straits. 

Once an encounter with a strange warship came near 
to upsetting our plans for capturing the Hawk. Mac¬ 
Williams and Watson, being renegades, were afraid to 
meet the captain of any European warship, for fear that 
they might be recognized and treated as buccaneers. 
Knowing their minds, I watched the outcome of the 
chase with intense interest. 

I happened to be the lookout for that day, and had 
reported a strange sail ahead. 

MacWilliams climbed the mast to a place beside me 
and adjusted his telescope. Then he went down and 
approached Uruj, Murad’s lieutenant. 


The Escape 213 

“She is well to windward-1 doubt if we can pass 

her!” the mate reported. 

“Why should we try to pass her?” Uruj said insolently. 

“ ’Twill go hard with us if we don’t,” said Mac- 
Williams. “She is double our size—with double our 
crew and guns. Our only chance is to keep our course 
and try to weather the ship.” 

Uruj looked to the wizard for advice. The magician, 
being a rank coward, found by his book that MacWilliams 
told the truth. Uruj therefore agreed to MacWilliams’s 
plan. 

We could now see the ship over our lee bow, about 
three miles away. The sea was heavy, but the Hawk met 
the waves gallantly. We saw a thick white puff of smoke 
from the forecastle of our pursuer. 

“The wind looks like it will die down,” said Mac- 
Williams, who had been anxiously watching the sky. “If 
it does, we will outsail her. The next few moments 
should tell what the outcome will be.” 

It looked to us as if we must pass within pistol shot 
of the vessel, and the thought of having to receive a 
broadside from her at such a short distance was enough 
to make a braver lad than I shiver with fright. Watson 
and his gunners stood at the cannon, waiting for Uruj’s 
command. 

Our pursuer was close to us now—in full sail. We 
could see groups of men about the gun ports, from which 
cannon jutted. 

A voice hailed us. 

“Ho ! The schooner, ahoy!” 

“Hello!” MacWilliams responded. 

“What vessel is that?” 



214 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

“The Tripolitan schooner Hawk , from Tripoli. What 
ship is yours?” 

We could not catch the first part of the reply, but 
we did hear the last words: “Haul down your flag and 
heave to!” 

Uruj went down to tell Murad. We continued on our 
course. 

“Heave to or we’ll sink you,” cried the challenger. 

MacWilliams spoke to Uruj. “Do as you think best,” 
said Uruj. “Fire the bow guns,” MacWilliams com¬ 
manded Watson. 

Our grapeshot whistled through the rigging of the 
frigate. We saw her foresail fall. 

Jets of flame issued from her ports and a broadside 
swept our decks. Our sails were undamaged, but several 
shots tore through our hull, injuring several of the sailors 
and soldiers with flying splinters, though none was seri¬ 
ously hurt. 

Before the next cannonade came, we had widened the 
distance between the Hawk and her pursuer. The winds, 
as MacWilliams had predicted, had grown lighter, and 
the Hawk , a splendid sailer in light winds, showed her 
heels handily to the enemy. Their shots struck us with 
less force, and soon we saw the shots from their long 
gun falling short of us. 

We had escaped from capture by a ship that evidently 
belonged to a country that was hostile to the Tripolitans. 
If she had seized us the renegades would have been 
treated in the same way that the Moslems would be used, 
and therefore MacWilliams took this desperate chance. 
As for me, I did not know whether to be glad or sorry, 
for if I had lived through the battle, I could doubtless 
have proved that I had been held in slavery. Yet the 


The Escape 215 

incident must have confirmed the Turks in their opinion 
of MacWilliams’ loyalty. 

On another day we sighted a vessel that appeared to 
be The Morning Star, but when she was nearly under 
our guns, and when Mustapha and I were about to sur¬ 
render hope of saving our riches, a freak of wind bore 
her away from us, and we never saw her again. 

Meanwhile, the scheme of rebellion and seizure was 
making steady progress. The plan of mutiny as it had 
formed itself in MacWilliams’s mind was to provide 
ropes and irons near the hatchways, gratings and cabins 
so that they could be closed from the outside at a mo¬ 
ment’s notice. When this had been arranged, the next 
step was to dupe the Moslems so that the most of them 
would be below deck when the signal for attack was 
given. MacWilliams went about the work cautiously. 
To have one traitor among us, he well knew, would cost 
every Christian his life. Mustapha, being an Arab, hated 
the Moors, and entered the plot eagerly. 

Each man who consented to engage in the plot swore 
a sacred oath of fidelity. 

With those MacWilliams could not trust—renegades 
or slaves whose character he could not read—his plan 
was, when the uprising came, to put pistols to their 
breasts and threaten them with death if they did not 
assist in the rebellion. 

After hours that seemed as long as months had passed, 
he passed me the word one night that the signal would 
be given on the morrow, before noon. The rough weather 
we were laboring through was an aid to our scheme. 

The next morning MacWilliams made an inspection 
of the hold. Then he came up to inform the Moslem 
lieutenant that there was much water in the bilges, and 


216 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

that it would be necessary to trim the ship. Uruj, sus¬ 
pecting nothing, consented. Our leader then asked that, 
for the same purpose, the cannon that were forward 
should be moved aft. This being done, he further re¬ 
quested that the Moslem soldiers be quartered aft so as 
to bring the ship’s bow out of the water. This was also 
agreed to. Meanwhile, we had managed to store in a 
convenient place such weapons as we would need. 

When all these things had been done, to avoid sus¬ 
picion, we went about our regular duties. Our con¬ 
federates of the gunner’s force went below deck with 
the infidel soldiers so that it would not appear that there 
was a crowding together of the slaves and renegades. 
The rest of us were set to pumping water by Mac- 
Williams. I could tell by the arrangement of the men, 
and by the way they acted, which were sharers in the 
secret. There were about a score of us, and we had 
to contend with double our number. 

At noon, while most of the Turks that were on deck 
were aft, using their weight to bring the stern into the 
water so that the water in the vessel might flow towards 
the pumps, MacWilliams gave the signal to one of the 
gunners to fire a cannon. An explosion followed—the 
signal for us to proceed. With a ringing hurrah we 
sprang to the attack. 

Each man had been assigned a specific duty: first we 
battened down the hatches down which most of the 
Moslems had gone, so that the greater part of our enemies 
were now prisoners; then we turned to conquer the Mos¬ 
lems on deck. 

There were twelve of them. They came at us with 
pistols, knives and hatchets, calling us by their epithet, 


217 


The Escape 

“Christian dogs!” But the dogs had become bloodhounds 
now. Johansen, one of the Danes, swung one of the 
cannon in their direction. They made a rush at him, 
but he fired the gun directly at them, at which there was 
a terrific explosion—and the decks became a welter of 
gore. The terrible death of these Mohammedans caused 
the remaining Moslems to prostrate themselves before 
us, their fury turned to abject fear. 

Meanwhile, the Moslems imprisoned between decks 
were trying desperately to break through the hatches. 
Murad, weak from sickness, yet rose up beside Uruj to 
thunder threats against us and to urge his men on. 
However, our victory on deck left us free to attend to 
those below. Two men were stationed over each passage¬ 
way, with orders to shoot any infidel who by the use of 
hatchet or knife was able to break through the planking. 

MacWilliams stood over the hatchway below which 
Murad and Uruj raged. 

“If you value your lives,” he called, “you will sur¬ 
render! My men have orders to shoot any man who 
dares to lift his head. If you come too strongly for our 
numbers, we will blow you to bits with your own cannon. 
We are only two days' sail from Plymouth. Your 
precious wizard hadn’t enough insight to see that we 
were taking you nearer the coast of England every hour 
we sailed. We will take you there, alive or dead. If you 
would enter England with breath in your lungs, sur¬ 
render !” 

Uruj at once offered to surrender himself and his men 
as prisoners of war. Murad cursed Uruj, but at last 
yielded. He reminded MacWilliams that he had treated 
him with consideration. 


2 i8 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

“That I acknowledge,” MacWilliams replied, “and I 
will so treat you as well so long as you make no attempt 
to thwart us!” 

The Mohammedans came out of the hatches one by 
one to be disarmed. The chains they had in store for 
such Christians as they might take captives were placed 
on their wrists and ankles. I was one of those who were 
called upon to receive the arms. It was a task to make 
a youth flinch to go from one scowling ruffian to another, 
collecting muskets, pistols, dirks, and pikes, but I came 
through without much trouble, having nothing harder 
thrown at me than curses. Murad flinched as I came 
toward him with a dirk in my hand, but I only grinned 
at him. For a keepsake, I took the cowering wizard's 
book of magic. 

When the last Moslem was put in irons, MacWilliams 
brought out openly his Bible. 

“I call on all of you who are willing to be reconciled 
to their true Savior,” he said, “and who repent of being 
seduced by hopes of riches, honor, preferment, and such 
devilish baits, to join me in praise and prayer to the true 
God, whom we re-establish in our hearts and restore in 
our worship.” 

With that he read to us this passage from the Psalms: 

“They that go down to the sea in ships, that do 
business in great waters; 

“These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders 
in the deep. 

“For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy 
wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. 

“They mount up to the heaven, they go down again 
to the depths; their soul is melted because 
of trouble. 


219 


The Escape 

“They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken 
man, and are at their wit’s end. 

“Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and 
he bringeth them out of their distresses. 

“He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves 
thereof are still. 

“Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he 
bringeth them unto their desired haven.” 

MacWilliams closed the Bible. “Now men,” he said, 
“having given thanks to the Almighty, let us wash the 
decks of infidel blood, so that our ship will present a 
decent appearance when we enter the harbor of our 
hopes.” 

We thereupon set about washing and holystoning the 
decks, and repairing the damage resulting from the bat¬ 
tle. Two days later, we entered Plymouth harbor, as¬ 
tounding the town as we, in strange garb ourselves, 
marched our captives in their queer Mohammedan dress 
to the town jail, where they were left to the disposition 
of the Government. We heard later that they were used 
in exchange for citizens of friendly European nations, 
held in captivity in Tripoli. 


CHAPTER XX 


HOME SURPRISES 

“Oh! dream of joy! Is this indeed 
The lighthouse top I see? 

Is this the hill? Is this the kirk? 

Is this mine own countree? ” 

T HE owners of the Hawk could not be found. The 
authorities decided that we had the right to offer 
her for sale and to divide the money among ourselves in 
proportions according to rank. Her value was placed at 
eighteen thousand dollars—but MacWilliams, backed by 
a group of merchants, purchased the ship for fifteen 
thousand dollars. He had not, canny Scot, returned 
from Barbary with empty pockets. He bought the Hawk 
at auction, and was able to obtain it at a low price because 
other merchants, when they saw his eagerness to obtain 
possession of her, refrained from bidding. 

I was eager to take passage for America, and Mac- 
Williams, to accommodate me, hurried the sale along so 
that Mustapha and myself could have our share. With 
three hundred dollars apiece in our possession, we bade 
him an affectionate farewell. 

He changed the name of the Hawk to the Dove, and 
vowed to me that she should be used only on honorable 
missions. 

“Lad, lad,” he said, as he gripped my hand, “it’s glad 
I am to see you returning to a God-fearing home. When 
you remember William MacWilliams, blot out the re- 


220 


Home Surprises 221 

membrance of ill deeds connected with my name, and 
think of me as a repentant man who yet intends to leave 
a good name behind him 1” 

We sailed for Baltimore in the brig Lafayette, Captain 
Lord. As we entered the Patapsco River Mustapha 
pointed out a schooner lying off Fell’s Point. “Blessed 
be Allah—it’s The Morning Star!” he cried. 

“Pray then that her crew are not going ashore to spend 
our fortune!” I said. 

Our first thought was to go directly aboard the 
schooner, but we then considered that we should have 
to furnish proof to her skipper that the sacks belonged 
to us, and that in such dealings it would be better to 
have the rector’s support; therefore, we decided to seek 
him first. 

As we passed a shop near the docks, I observed this 
sign above its door: 

ALEXANDER FORSYTH 
Exporter of 

Fish, Flour, Tobacco, Com and Furs 

Importer of 
Teas, Coffee and Spices 

I entered and pounded on a desk. 

“I want to buy a shipload of cannon balls to fire at 
the Dey of Algiers! I want to charter a frigate that 
will blow Joseph, Bashaw of Tripoli, to perdition! Fish, 
flour, tobacco—who’s dealing in such tame stuff—it’s 
blood and thunder I’m after purchasing; it’s muskets and 
cutlasses I want. Show me your stock, man!” 

A man with the build of a mastpole came out of the 
counting-room and stared at me. I swaggered towards 


222 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

him, but, suddenly, overcome by amusement at his puz¬ 
zled look and joy at beholding him again, I sprang for¬ 
ward and threw my arms about him. 

"‘David!” he cried. 

“Alexander,” I answered. 

We stood hugging each other like two polar bears. 

In a few minutes of hurried chat, I found out that my 
brother, recovering his health, had married Nell King, a 
Baltimore girl, and was prospering as a merchant. Com¬ 
modore Barney, who had backed Alexander in business, 
was at sea. (How I fell in with him later and increased 
the family fortunes by acting as chaplain on his privateer 
Polly may not be told now.) 

Customers came into the shop, and promising to call 
on Alexander and Nell that night, I broke away and 
went on up to the house. Mustapha, gaping at the strange 
western land I had brought him to, and as bewildered as 
I had been when I wandered through his desert cities, 
walked closely beside me, clutching my arm. I saw some 
of the bullies who had mutinied on board The Rose of 
Egypt . I think they recognized me, but Mustapha and 
I were a stalwart pair, and the looks cast our way by 
the dock loafers were more of respect than of hostility. 

We approached the rector’s house at dusk. A wel¬ 
coming light shone through the elms. I was swaggering 
along, thinking how much of a man I would appear to 
the rector. The yellow glow from the window, however, 
spread an influence that changed me into a soft-hearted 
boy. Here was I, a sailor hardened through contact with 
all sorts of men, toughened by wind, wave and warfare, 
yet brushing a tear from my cheek as I saw the lamp 
in the parsonage shining out cheerier than the ray of a 
lighthouse on a tempestuous night. 


Home Surprises 223 

The door was bolted—I knocked. A girl answered, 
her face in the shadows. 

I was as much taken aback as if I had seen a ghost. 
I was not used to seeing girls around the old home. Be¬ 
sides, Alexander had not warned me. 

“Is it someone to see father ?” she asked timidly. 

“You are Nell, Alexander’s wife?” I said boldly, “and 
a pretty choice he made!” 

“No!” she said, and I stood there in worse confusion 
than ever. 

Yet there was something vaguely familiar in her tone. 

“I beg your pardon,” I said, “I thought Dr. Eccleston 
still lived here.” 

“He does!” she replied. “Please come in!” 

We stepped into the hallway. I looked around, taking 
in each familiar object. 

“I am David Forsyth,” I said, “perhaps you have heard 
the rector speak of his boy who went to sea.” 

“I recognized you at first, David,” she said, her face 
still in the shadows. “What a grand surprise for the 
rector!” 

I walked towards the library, but the rector had heard 
our voices. He came out, spectacles in one hand, a book 
in the other. He stared at me as if he could scarcely 
credit his own sight. 

I was in his arms the next moment. 

“David,” he shouted. “I had almost given you up for 
lost! No letters! And all the time I’ve been waiting 
to thank you for sending me my precious jewel!” 

I looked at Mustapha in puzzlement. What did he 
mean by “jewel”? Had he gotten the treasure? 

He turned to the mysterious girl, whose gold hair 
flashed in the lamplight as if ten thousand diamonds 


224 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

were netted in it. I had seen a girl’s hair flashing in 
just such a way before! But where? 

He saw me twirling my hat and grasped the situation: 

“David,” he explained, “this is my daughter! General 
Eaton told me that it was you who first pointed her out 
to him in the Arab camp.” 

Heigho! I had gone forth to seek adventures, and 
here at my home door was a more marvelous thing than 
any I had come upon. The girl that General Eaton had 
bought from the Bedouin hag was no other than the 
daughter the rector had lost in the desert! She was 
taller and lovelier, and the more I looked the more 
flustrated I became. I had always been shy before girls, 
and now I stood like a gawk, blushing under her gaze. 
I wanted the floor to open when she came forward and 
held up her lips in a matter-of-fact way for my kiss. 

However, I did not dodge the invitation, for all my 
bashfulness. Indeed, I might as well record here that 
that sisterly kiss became a few months later the kiss of 
a sweetheart—but since I have no notion of having this 
book end in a love story, we had better get back to our 
course. 

Mustapha, who had kept himself well in the rear, was 
now discovered by Anne, and what a jabbering in Arabic 
took place. Whenever after that I started to tell Anne 
of my adventures I found that she had already heard it 
from Mustapha. I can’t say that I was displeased at this, 
because the lad—not that I deserved it—held me in high 
esteem, and painted me in every episode as a great hero. 

Over the supper table we learned how the rector and 
Anne had been united. General Eaton had landed in 
Baltimore, and the rector, beholding beside the General 


Home Surprises 225 

a girl who bore a striking resemblance to his wife, 
stopped the officer in the street, questioned him, brought 
him and his ward to the parsonage as his guests, and 
there, by matching his story with that of Anne’s, dis¬ 
covered that she was no other than his own daughter. 
Her mother—Anne had only a slight remembrance of 
her—must have died early in her captivity. 

The next morning Mustapha and myself induced the 
rector to take a stroll with us. We reached the dock 
where The Morning Star was moored just as she was 
being unloaded. As we started to go aboard we bumped 
into a string of stevedores. Our search ended there and 
then, for among the baggage these men carried were our 
sacks. 

“Toss those confounded bags aside/ 7 cried the officer 
in charge of the unloading. “I wonder if the cheeky 
rascal who sent them aboard thought I was going to hunt 
over Baltimore for ‘Rev. Ezekiel Eccleston of Marley 
Chapel/ 77 

I approached him in my most respectful manner. 

“Here, sir, is the Reverend Eccleston. He is the 
gentleman for whom the sacks are intended, and I’m the 
‘cheeky rascal 7 who shipped them. Your coxswain will 
recognize Mustapha here as the lad who stowed them 
in your cutter. There wasn’t much need of shipping the 
curios after all, since my schooner arrived here almost 
as quickly as your ship.” 

He looked at me as if he wanted to pour out a flood 
of oaths. Then his gaze wandered over the rector’s garb 
and he grew less surly. 

“It’s lucky for you, sir,” he said to my guardian, “that 
we didn’t pitch those sacks overboard! I like this cub’s 


226 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

cheek—sending freight aboard without even saying, ‘By 
your leave !’ If the bags hadn’t been addressed to a 
parson, overboard they’d have gone!” 

“Your forbearance is much appreciated,” said the 
rector. “The boy, I believe, was in a trying situation.” 

I took out a roll of banknotes. 

“We’ll pay you in full for all the bother you’ve been 
put to. You really saved this stuff from falling into the 
hands of the Turk, Joseph Bashaw. Yet there was 
another skipper who wanted in the worst way to carry 
those bags! In fact, he inquired for The Morning Star 
at several South Atlantic ports. I think you came in 
sight of him. But we’re none the less grateful to you, 
sir!” 

He snatched from me a pound note. “Always glad 
to serve the Church,” he said civilly to the rector. “By 
the way, my men said there appeared to be metal orna¬ 
ments in the sacks—candlesticks for worship, I suppose ?” 

The rector, at a loss for a reply, stared at the sacks. 

“Something of that sort! They will be very useful 
to the Church,” I answered, shouldering one. Mustapha 
followed suit with another, and the rector, good man, 
dragged the third sack to a wagon I had hired. With 
a load of worry removed from Mustapha and myself, 
we drove homeward. I heard afterwards that The Morn¬ 
ing Star, though then a freighter for the Government, 
was a converted privateer and had even been suspected 
of piracy while in Uncle Sam’s employ. Her men had 
probably captured and sunk many a ship without obtain¬ 
ing loot half as valuable as these, our riches, which they 
so carelessly carried. 

On the way home the rector questioned me concerning 
the contents of the sacks, but I evaded him. Now, as we 


Home Surprises 227 

stood in the hallway, with the sacks at our feet, I myself 
popped a question. 

“Rector,” I said, “if you were suddenly handed a good- 
sized fortune, what would you do with it ?” 

He smiled. 

“I suppose, David, that we all like to indulge in such 
day-dreams. First, I should erect a larger church here— 
this business of hanging our church-bell to a tree is get¬ 
ting sadly out of fashion. Then I should build mission 
chapels in the border settlements. Then Alexander 
should have capital with which to expand his trade with 
the West Indies. Then I should send you to Yale Col¬ 
lege—it’s really time now, David, that you settled down 
to your studies. Then I should send General Eaton some 
funds. Congress praised him, but has since neglected 
him, and the poor fellow is low in spirits and failing in 
health. Then-” 

“Rector/’ I said, “all those wishes and as many more 
are granted. I found both Aladdin’s lamp and Ali Baba’s 
cave in the deserts of Africa. Stand by and watch me 
bring all of your day-dreams true! Fall too, Mustapha, 
servant of the geni!” 

With our jackknives we slashed open the sacks. The 
treasure hoard of the ancients—the priceless jewelry and 
trinkets which the rector long ago had discovered and 
then sealed up and abandoned—poured out in gleaming 
confusion at his feet. 



POSTSCRIPT 


THE END OF THE PIRATES 

S O far as my fortunes are concerned, I was rid forever 
of Barbary's corsairs. But, to make my narrative 
complete, it may be well to state that the end of their 
piracies was in sight, and that Stephen Decatur was the 
man who struck the blow, that marked the beginning of 
their end. 

The United States had borne these insults and oppres¬ 
sions meekly during the time she was evolving into a 
nation, but at last, under Decatur, her true spirit showed 
itself. The Dey of Algiers, the last to affront us, was 
at length forced to take tribute in the way our naval 
officers had long wished to deliver it—from the cannon's 
mouth. 

The War of 1812 tempered the spirit of our navy for 
this closing campaign with the buccaneers of Barbary. 
The frigate Constitution thrilled the nation by her vic¬ 
tory over the British warship Guerriere, although the 
Constitution's captain, Isaac Hull, had to steal out to do 
battle without the knowledge of the timid Monroe admin¬ 
istration, which feared that our ships were no match for 
the British frigates. Then the United States , commanded 
by Captain Stephen Decatur, defeated and captured the 
Macedonian, one of the swiftest and strongest and best- 
equipped ships in John Bull's navy, and Lieutenant Archi¬ 
bald Hamilton marched into a ball given to naval officers 

228 


The End of the Pirates 


229 

in Washington with the flag of the captured ship across 
his shoulders. 

Then the Constitution met the British frigate Java, 
and by splendid gunnery reduced her to a burning hulk. 
Then the British had their innings and Captain Broke, 
of the Shannon, defeated the chivalrous but over-con¬ 
fident Captain Lawrence in the Chesapeake. 

Decatur, with his feathers drooping somewhat from 
the fact that he had been forced to surrender the Presi¬ 
dent to two British frigates after a hard fight, was sent, 
after the treaty of peace had been signed, to deal again 
with the Barbary states, to which we still paid tribute. 
These powers had grown insolent again when the United 
States became engaged in war with England and had 
resumed their piracy. Decatur sailed in the flagship 
Guerriere and commanded a squadron of nine vessels. 

Algiers, the chief offender this time, had organized a 
strong navy under the command of Admiral “Rais Ham- 
mida,” called “the terror of the Mediterranean.” De¬ 
catur’s squadron sighted this Algerine admiral in his 
forty-six-gun frigate Mashouda off Cape Gatte, and pur¬ 
sued and captured the Turkish ship. Her captain was 
killed in the first encounter. 

Decatur now proceeded to Algiers to bring the Dey 
to terms. The captain of the port came out insolently 
to meet him. “Where is your navy?” demanded De¬ 
catur. 

“Safe in some neutral port!” retorted the Algerine 
officer. 

“Not the whole of it,” Decatur said. “We have al¬ 
ready captured the frigate Mashouda and the brig Estido t 
and Admiral Hammida is dead.” 

The captive lieutenant of the Mashouda was brought 


230 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

forth to confirm these statements. The Dey’s represen¬ 
tative became humble and begged that hostilities should 
cease until a treaty could be drawn up on shore. 

“Hostilities will go on until a treaty is made,” Decatur 
replied, “and a treaty will be made nowhere but on board 
the Guerribre!” 

The officer came out again the next day and began 
haggling over terms in true Oriental fashion. Decatur 
stuck to his terms, which included the release of all 
Americans held in slavery and the restoration of their 
property. He demanded an immediate decision, threat¬ 
ening : 

“If your squadron appears before the treaty is signed 
by the Dey and if American captives are on board, I 
shall capture it.” 

The port officer left. An hour afterward an Algerine 
man-of-war appeared. Decatur ordered his officers to 
prepare for battle. Manning the forts and ships were 
forty thousand Turks. 

Before the squadron got under way, however, the Dey’s 
envoy was seen approaching, flying a white flag—the 
token of surrender. 

All of the terms had been agreed to. We were to 
pay no further tributes to the pirate prince. Our 
ships were to be free from interference. Ten Americans 
that had been held in captivity were delivered up. They 
knelt at Decatur’s feet to thank God for their release 
and rose up to embrace their flag. 

From Algiers, Decatur sailed to Tunis and then to 
Tripoli, and actually forced their rulers to pay indemni¬ 
ties for breaking, during the period of our war with 
Britain, the treaties they had made with the United 
States. 


The End of the Pirates 


231 


Decatur thus put an end to the attacks of the Moors 
upon American merchant ships. He had set an example 
that Britain was soon to follow. 

BRITAIN FOLLOWS DECATUR’S LEAD 

British consuls and sea-faring men were still being 
insulted and molested by Moslems. Public indignation 
in England rose to such a height that the British govern¬ 
ment sent Sir Edward Pellew, upon whom had been be¬ 
stowed the title Lord Exmouth, to negotiate similar 
terms. The fleet sailed first to Tunis and Tripoli and 
forced the two Beys to promise to abolish Christian 
slavery. An element of humor came into the situation 
at Tunis, for Caroline, Princess of Wales, was on a tour 
of the country, and was not above accepting the hos¬ 
pitality of the Bey, no matter what wrongs to her coun¬ 
trymen went on under the surface. Her entertainment 
included picnics among the ruins of Carthage and the 
orange groves of Tunis, to which she was driven in the 
Bey’s coach and six. She was indignant when word 
reached her that a bombardment from her own fleet 
threatened to put an end to her pleasures. She sought 
to interfere, but the Admiral was firm. The Princess 
took refuge on board one of the English ships; the 
squadron prepared to attack; but the Bey yielded. 

The squadron now proceeded to Algiers. Here the 
Dey protested so vehemently that the Admiral agreed to 
the ruler’s proposal to send ambassadors to England to 
lay his case before the final authorities. No sooner had 
the fleet returned to England than news came of a mas¬ 
sacre of Italians under British protection in Bona, by 
Algerines acting under orders actually given by the Dey 
while Lord Exmouth was at Algiers. 


232 Pirate Princes and Yankee Jacks 

There was, in the port of Bona, a little to the east 
of Algiers, a coral fishery carried on under the protection 
of Britain. Corsicans, Neapolitan and other fishermen 
came here to gather coral. On the 23rd of May, 1816, 
Ascension Day, as the fishermen were preparing to attend 
Mass, a gun was fired from the castle and two thousand 
Moslem soldiers opened fire on the helpless fishermen 
and massacred them. Then the English flags were torn 
to pieces and the British Vice-Consul’s house wrecked 
and pillaged. 

Lord Exmouth’s squadron, on its way to punish the 
corsairs for these atrocities, fell in with five frigates and 
a corvette under the Dutch Admiral, Van de Capellan. 
All civilized nations had been aroused by the massacre 
of the Italian coral fishers, and the Dutch were eager 
to take part in the expedition to punish the murderers. 
Lord Exmouth welcomed them, and the combined fleets 
set sail for Algiers. 

Lord Exmouth sent a letter ashore to the Dey demand¬ 
ing that the Algerians abolish making slaves of Chris¬ 
tians ; that they surrender such Christian slaves as they 
now held; that they restore ransom money exacted from 
Italian slaves, make peace with Holland, and free the 
lately imprisoned British Consul, and other English cap¬ 
tives. The Dey was allowed three hours in which to 
reply. No answer came. Lord Exmouth began the 
battle. 

His flagship, Queen Charlotte, led the fleet to the at¬ 
tack. Reaching the left-hand end of the mole, she an¬ 
chored, thus barring the mouth of the harbor. In this 
position, her guns could sweep the whole length and 
breadth of the mole. Up came the Superb , the Minden, 
the Albion, and the Impregnable . Meanwhile, the foe 


The End of the Pirates 


233 


had opened fire and the Queen Charlotte had replied 
with three broadsides that ruined the mole’s defences and 
killed five hundred men. 

The Dutch squadron and the British frigates came in 
under a heavy fire and engaged the shore batteries. The 
Algerian gunboats, screened by the smoke of the guns, 
came out to board the Queen Charlotte. The Leander , 
lying beyond the smoke, saw them and sunk thirty-three 
out of thirty-seven with her batteries. 

At last the enemy’s guns were silenced. The British 
and Dutch fleets withdrew into the middle of the bay. 
The defeated Dey accepted the British terms. The Eng¬ 
lish consul was released. Three thousand slaves were 
set free; some of these had been in prison for thirty 
years. The bombardment destroyed part of the house 
of the American consul Shaler, who, the British after¬ 
wards testified, did all in his power to aid the English. 

The British squadron gained its victory at the cost 
of one hundred and twenty-eight men killed and six 
hundred and ninety men wounded. Lord Exmouth led 
his men with Nelson-like gallantry. He was wounded in 
three places, his telescope was knocked from his hand 
by a shot, and his coat was cut to ribbons. Even this 
punishment did not entirely crush the corsairs. It was 
reserved for the French to put an end to their piracies. 

But that campaign did not begin until 1830—and my 
story can not run on forever. 


SOURCES OF INFORMATION DRAWN UPON BY THE 

AUTHOR 


“The Narrative and Critical History of America,” edited by 
Justin Winsor. 

“American State Papers, Foreign Relations.” 

“Debates of Congress,” compiled by Thomas H. Benton. 

“Life of the Late General William Eaton,” by Charles Prentiss, 
published in 1813 in Brookfield, Mass. 

“Ocean Life in the Old Sailing Ship Days,” by Captain John D. 
Whidden. 

“From the Forecastle to the Cabin,” by Captain S. Samuels. 

“Round the Galley Fire,” by W. Clark Russell. 

“The Story of Our Navy,” by Edgar Stanton Maclay. 

“A History of the United States Navy,” by John R. Spears. 

“Our Navy and the Barbary Corsairs,” by Gardner W. Allen. 

“The Barbary Corsairs,” by Stanley Lane-Poole. 

“Yankee Ships and Yankee Sailors,” by James Barnes. 

“Maryland Chronicles,” by Scharf. 

“Africa,” by Frank G. Carpenter. 

“Rambles and Studies in Greece,” by Mahaffy. 

“Winters in Algeria,” by F. A. Bridgman. 

“The Romance of Piracy,” by E. Keble Chatterton. (The epi¬ 
sode of David’s escape in the ship Hawk is founded on an 
actual adventure that occurred in 1622, related in Mr. 
Chatterton’s book. The story of the mutiny aboard The 
Rose of Egypt was suggested by an actual episode—de¬ 
scribed in Captain Samuel’s autobiography.) 

To Deane H. Uptegrove and George Mullien, the writer is 
indebted for advice concerning the sea episodes that appear 
in this book. The New York Public Library, The Newark 
Public Library, the East Orange Public Library, and the 
private library of the New York Evening Post have been 
helpful in giving the author access to material not easily 
obtainable. 


234 








































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